


Let's Do Some Living After We Die

by BadBadBucky



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Gore, i know this sounds heavy but it's a cute story i promise, they're ghosts, well they start out the story dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-05 19:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadBadBucky/pseuds/BadBadBucky
Summary: Vince and Howard are dead and haunting the local graveyard. But Vince isn't acting himself and it's down to Howard to save him from slipping into the true black.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet little graveyard in the north country, on the outskirts of Leeds. Howard had grown up in the area. Vince moved there when he was 7. Per their instructions they’d been buried side by side. Howard insisted they each make a will along with instructions for their burial. Vince thought it was well morbid, but Howard pointed out they ended up in a lot of life threatening circumstances and they needed to make their wishes known in case the worst should happen. Vince still wasn’t on board until Howard mentioned that he might get buried in a suit if he didn’t specify otherwise. After that, Vince had taken to the task with great zeal, trying to come up with the perfect outfit for eternity. 

Howard had been right to worry. The worst had happened. The date on their tombstones were the same, but that was the only similarity between the two. Even after they’d been dead 2 years, Vince’s grave was festooned with flowers, his headstone covered in lipstick prints from people kissing it as if he was Jim Morrison. Howard’s grave had a bouquet of seaweed from when Old Gregg had visited, but it was old and dried up, never replaced. 

As if Howard didn’t have enough to be pissed off about.

Two years in a graveyard would be damnably boring in any case, but it was doubly so when you weren’t on speaking terms with your best friend. When your best friend spent the majority of his time as a disembodied shrieking voice because his feelings were hurt. 

After they died, Vince had a much harder time keeping his form than Howard. One moment he’d be there, trying to get Howard to talk to him, he’d get frustrated with Howard ignoring him, then he’d evaporate like hot water thrown into cold air. Then the shrieking would start. Howard knew Vince couldn’t help it, it was part of the whole ghost gig, but it was quite annoying, and Howard was not feeling particularly understanding these days.

You see, it was completely Vince’s fault they were dead. 

Xxx

_ The funeral was over. The mourners had retired to the local pub to celebrate the lives of Howard Moon and Vince Noir. Darkness settled over the graveyard and two vague wisps hovering at the edge of vision resolved themselves into view. Vince and Howard. _

_ Vince had chosen his final outfit carefully and Naboo and Bollo had followed his instructions to a T. His mirror ball suit. His favorite gold cuban heels. He’d left a step by step chart for his makeup so that whoever prepared his body would know which shade of lippy he wanted and to go easy on the blush. Finally he’d asked that he be buried with all of his accessories sort of like an Egyptian Pharaoh. He could face eternity as long as he was able to accessorize.  _

_ Howard had been less concerned with what he’d be buried in (though if he’d known he was going to end up a ghost he may have been slightly more concerned). His main concern was where he was to be buried. Vince wanted to be buried in London. Or possibly France. Somewhere cool. Howard insisted he wanted to be buried at home. In the north.  _

_ They’d even been to the cemetery before. Though Howard sometimes wondered if Vince remembered. _

_ Howard had told Vince that he could be buried wherever he wanted but that Howard Moon would be laid to rest in his homeland. Vince had actually been quite hurt that Howard would suggest they not be buried in the same place. So it had been settled. Together in life. Together in death. But maybe not so together as either of them would have liked.  _

_ Vince sidled over to Howard. This was the first time they’d seen each other since they’d died a week ago.  _

_ “Alright Howard?” _

_ Howard glared at him. “No. I am not alright. I am about as far from alright as humanly possible. I’m dead.” _

_ “It don’t seem so bad,” Vince said. “Check this out.” Vince floated into the air, hovering ten feet off the ground. “That’s pretty cool, idn’t it?” _

_ Howard was unmoved. “There’s nothing cool about being dead Vince.” _

_ “Least we get to hang out. There’s that right?” _

_ Howard refused to be cheered. In fact with every attempt Vince made to find a silver lining, Howard grew angrier. _

_ Vince didn’t notice the wind whipping the trees. Didn’t hear the inhuman sounds ripping through the ether, seemingly conjured by Howard’s fury.  _

_ “And there will probably be girls who’ll come and cry on our graves! And we can walk through stuff. Which is genius. I bet we can go invisible as well. Scare the kids when they come in. This is going to be geniu-” _

_ “SHUT UP!” Howard screamed, his echoing in a way that it never had in life (in life he’d been echoless, they’d done a study on it).  _

_ Vince slammed his mouth shut and he seemed a little less solid, Howard could see the trees that surrounded the north side of the graveyard through Vince’s torso.  _

_ “It’s not genius.. It’s not cool. It’ not brilliant or fantastic or neat. We’re dead. And it’s your fault.” _

_ Vince opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. _

_ “You just haaaad to see what was in that cave.” Howard waggled his hands in the air.  _

_ “The jelly man said there was a treasure in there.” _

_ “He said there were sweets in there.” _

_ “Exotic sweets. They coulda been worth a lot. You don’t know.” Vince said, feeling defensive. _

_ “Well there weren’t any sweets in there were there.” _

_ Vince kicked at the ground, it didn’t have the same effect when you were incorporeal. “No.” _

_ Howard leaned forward, placing his hand to his ear. _

_ “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.” _

_ Vince raised his voice a bit. “No.” _

_ “And what was in the cave Vince?” _

_ “Poison darts.” _

_ “And what did those poison darts do?” _

_ “Poisoned us.” _

_ “That’s right,” Howard said. “Poisoned us to death.”  _

_ The fact that the whole thing had been a stupid accident actually made Howard even more angry at Vince. He’d always thought he would die in a way befitting a man of action. Instead he’d been killed by the most easily avoidable boobie trap in Raiders of the Lost Ark. He knew it wasn’t really Vince’s fault, but he was just too angry.  _

_ “I told you not to move. That it was dangerous and that we should assess the situation.” _

_ Quietly, “I know.” _

_ “Then after you blundered on anyway and stepped on that trigger stone, I said to stay still.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ Vince’s lip had gone all wobbly. A sure sign he was going to start crying, but Howard really didn’t give a toss. _

_ “But you didn’t stay still.” _

_ “There was a spider-” _

_ “Yes. I know. In your precious hair. But answer me this Vince, what’s really more important. Your hair or your life? Our lives? My life?” _

_ Things had not been good before they died. Vince knew that. He’d treated Howard rather poorly for the last few months. He just found himself needing more and more attention. Adoration. Validation. One on One couldn’t do it for him. He needed an audience. And he’d do anything to get it. And everything to keep it. He’d stepped on Howard. Let his neuroses run wild. He was supposed to be Howard’s biggest cheerleader and he’d turned into just another tormenter.  _

_ The trip to the cave that killed them had been an olive branch or sorts. A disastrous one as it turned out. Howard leaving for Denmark had terrified Vince. He’d been so sure that Howard would stick around. He trusted him to stick around. But he’d been careless. And he’d almost lost Howard. When Howard returned Vince told himself he’d do everything he could to turn it around. So he’d tried to bring them together. Go on an adventure like they used to.  _

_ “I’m really sorry Howard, I-” As Vince spoke he reached out to touch Howard, but his hand passed straight through. He tried to touch Howard again, but he wasn’t able. His hand just kept passing straight through. _

_ With every failed attempt to touch Howard, Vince grew more and more translucent. Little whining noises escaped his throat. He kept trying. This part hadn’t occurred to him. He’d known that he couldn’t touch objects, which was unfortunate but manageable, but he thought he’d still be able to touch Howard. When Howard had haunted him back at the zoo they’d been able to touch. He realized with horror that their special effects budget must have gone up. He needed to be able to touch Howard. Vince didn’t do well when he couldn’t touch other people.  _

_ Howard snapped at him to stop it. Noting, but choosing to ignore, Vince’s distress. _

_ Vince disappeared completely. _

_ Howard whipped around, trying to see where he’d gone. _

_ “Vince? Vince?” _

_ It was as silent as, well, a graveyard. _

_ “Vince!” _

_ Then the shrieking started. The sound sent an icy stake into Howard’s heart, because he knew it was Vince. Vince was making that awful inhuman sound. The sound of trees being rended in twain by a cruel winter wind. The sound of ice cracking under your feet. Of wild dogs baying for blood. Of a dying rabbit. And of the vultures circling above it waiting for a meal. It was the most horrible sound Howard had ever heard.  _

_ A few hours later Vince re-materialized. His hair was a mess. His clothes didn’t fit quite right. He looked a lot more...dead than he had before.  _

_ Now that his concern over whether Vince was gone forever had been allayed, Howard went right back to anger. _

_ “Howard.”  _

_ Howard ignored him, concentrating instead on examining some of the other gravestones nearby. _

_ “Howard. Howard. Howard.” _

_ Howard continued to ignore him. _

_ “Howard. Howard. Howard.Howard. Howard. Howard. ” Vince’s voice rose and fell. Questioning and then answering. Trying funny voices and yelling. All to get Howard to answer him. To look at him. _

_ But Howard refused. Maybe Howard couldn’t see him? What if he hadn’t actually rematerialized? What if this was a dream? What if he was invisible? What if he was in hell? _

_ He screamed “Howaaaaaaard!”  _

_ Howard startled and glanced at him briefly, but then went back to ignoring him. _

_ Not invisible then. A comfort. But a very cold one.  _

_ Xxx _

As Howard ignored him, Vince found it harder and harder to keep his shape. He wasn’t entirely sure where he went when he discorporated. All he could remember was anger and pain. Cold wind whipping at his soul, leaving long jagged rips on his heart. And every time he came back he felt a little less like himself. A little less the sunshine kid. Like he was leaving pieces of himself behind in that other place.

He knew Howard was angry with him, but he hadn’t thought it would go on this long. They’d always forgiven each other before. Even after the worst of fights they’d been speaking again within a couple days. But this was different. It seemed Howard was finally done with him. Getting him killed was the final straw and being stuck with Vince for eternity that last twist of the knife. 

At first Vince’s natural optimism told him that Howard would come round. Being dead had to be quite a shock, so it was just taking him a bit longer to forgive than usual. Then a few months passed and Howard still resolutely refused to talk to him.

He tried everything he could think of. He scanned his brain for hours trying to remember the correct name of one  _ one  _ jazz musician. It had to be right though. If he messed it up it would make Howard mad. He finally remembered Billie Holiday but had no idea she was a woman so the ruse was shattered in short order. He tried to recite some of the poetry Howard had written when they were kids. Back when Vince would ask Howard to read them aloud because it helped him understand them better. When really he just liked watching Howard’s face as he dramatically read his latest opus. He wished he had paints so he could give Howard a picture. He was a lot better at expressing himself that way. Maybe then Howard would see how sorry he was. How much he missed him. 

Howard spent all his time with a few of the other ghosts in the graveyard. They enjoyed his company and never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Vince was quite unpopular with the other ghosts (he hadn’t struggled this much with social interaction since he was a nipper). They resented the intrusion of the living, who often came to place flowers on the grave of Vince Noir Rock N Roll Star, as if he had any control over what his fans and friends did. He couldn’t hold his form all that well for conversation and the periodic shrieking was interrupting their eternal rest. So none of the others ghosts particularly liked him and as a result, Vince was quite lonely. 

One year. Vince could feel himself fading into nothingness. It was almost a relief after the desperate loneliness of his new life in death. He barely tried to get Howard to talk to him anymore. He was spending more and more time in that cold jagged place; only coming back when someone new made the pilgrimage from Shoreditch to place flowers at his grave or press a colorful kiss to his tombstone. When that happened he found he could keep his form for hours. Sometimes even days, but eventually he would fade again.

18 months. Vince tried to gather his thoughts. So he could be seen again. He had to talk to Howard. Something was very wrong. But he was like a child trying to pick up all his marbles after the bell has rung to go back inside. Panicking, his selfhood slipped through his fingers.

2 years. He was supposed to talk to someone. There was someone who could help. When he tried to concentrate there was only whistling wind where Vince used to be. 

Then. One day...nothing.

Xxx

Vince hadn’t stopped shrieking in days. Usually it was intermittent. On a bit. Off a bit. Then he’d be back to himself. Well. Not completely back. He’d often look gaunt. His hair lank and lifeless. The spark missing from his eyes. But none of that was Howard’s concern. He was done. 

Now, he never stopped. Sundown to sunrise he shrieked and wailed. 

One of the other ghosts, Mr. Pickins, sidled up to Howard.

“Moon, some of the other spirits and I have been talking, and it may be time for you to have a word with your little friend. This noise is absolutely untenable.”

“He’ll stop eventually. He’s just having a strop. It’ll be fine. He did the same thing when we were kids.” 

Mr. Pickins slowly shook his head. “No, I’ve seen this before. The shrieking gets worse, then eventually it stops and the spirit is gone. To the true black.” 

Howard tuned into the conversation for the first time. “What d’yo mean gone?”

“The spirit is trapped on another plane. Their consciousness is lost to pain and fear. It’s very unpleasant and is incredibly inconvenient for the rest of us. If the spirit knows they are loved and cared for they can sometimes be restored. So maybe talk to him before it becomes too late?”

Howard must have indicated his assent in some way because Mr. Pickins walked away, leaving Howard frozen, with only the sound of Vince’s shrieking to keep him company.

He’d thought he’d have all the time in the world. Eternity meant eternity. Surely a few years in the grand scheme of things would make little difference. He’d stay angry for a while, which in his mind was completely justifiable, then he’d forgive Vince and then they’d figure out what to do for the rest of their deaths. He didn’t have eternity. Every second Vince slipped further away. Then Howard would be left to face eternity alone. He might have acquaintances, but make no mistake, an eternity without Vince would be the worst kind of torture. He’d go mad. He’d end up following Vince into the true black. 

It was almost morning, when the spirits would rest easy for another day. What if Vince slipped into the true black before Howard had a chance to do anything? Before he’d even had a chance to try to save him? 

He had at best a few minutes before the sun rose. He had to slow down Vince’s slide into darkness. He had to let Vince know. Let Vince know that-Let him know what? That he wasn’t angry anymore? 

Howard searched his feelings. Yes, the fear of losing Vince had far outweighed any anger he held in his heart. 

That he loved him? Yes. That was true. Had been all his life. Why not in his death as well?

But how could he show it? He needed something definitive. Something that would get Vince’s attention and pierce through to that cold dark place he was slowly becoming lost to. 

Howard began to sing. 

_ Childhood living is easy to do _

This was stupid. It wasn’t enough.

It was the best plan he had.

_ The things you wanted I bought them for you _

_ Graceless lady you know who I am _

He could barely hear his own voice over the sound of Vince’s shrieking.

_ You know I can't let you slide through my hands _

The sun sent its first tendrils over the horizon. Turning the grey world red. 

_ Wild horses couldn't drag me away _

Howard could feel himself slipping into rest. Vince’s shrieking continued.

_ Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away _

Just before Howard faded away he heard Vince’s shrieking cut off, he had time to wonder whether it had been due to his singing, or the sun rising, or whether he’d lost his little man forever.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun set and Howard materialized. There was no shrieking. Howard wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad sign.

“Vince. Vince!”

He wandered the graveyard, but didn’t see his friend everywhere.

He returned to his and Vince’s little plot, frantic, his hands buried firmly in his hair. He caught a glimpse of something behind his tombstone. A whisper of fog perhaps. 

Knowing he was grasping at straws and feeling like a berk, Howard walked to the back of his tombstone and knelt down.

The wisp didn’t disperse. He sat down on the dead brown grass.

“Vince?” He said. Very low. Very quiet. He knew that when they had first died Vince would sometimes discorporate if Howard yelled, or spoke too sharply. 

The wisp moved.

Howard thought he could almost make out the shape of a person sitting with their back braced against the tombstone, arms wrapped around their legs.

The wisp did not move again, but there was a hesitant whistling sound. Slow and labored. Eventually Howard recognized it. The tune from the song he’d sung last night.  _ Wild Horses  _ by The Rolling Stones.

At various points over their lives Vince had forced Howard to listen to the Rolling Stones’ entire catalogue. At one point Howard had tried to fake an allergic reaction, but the hives he gave himself smeared. And Vince could spot a makeup job from a mile away. During one of these sessions Howard grudgingly admitted that he didn’t completely hate  _ Wild Horses.  _ Vince immediately dubbed it their song. They’d go out to the pub and Vince would beg a few quarters off Howard, the little titbox never had any money, and put “Our Song Howard!” on the jukebox. If Vince really really felt like dancing while he was home he would put on “Our Song Howard!” to entice Howard to dance with him. If Howard was sulking, Vince would come out of the bedroom dressed as Mick Jagger in a velvet jumpsuit (he’d explained to Howard that clearly the costume and the song didn’t match up era wise, but as a Jagger novice Howard might appreciate a more iconic Jagger look, sometimes Vince’s mind confounded him), and he would sing “Our Song Howard!”

That’s always how he would say it too, “Our Song Howard!” as in “Check it out. I put on our song Howard!” or “No way! It’s our song Howard!” or “Remember, that’s our song Howard.” To which Howard would always respond with a brusque “Yup, it sure is.” Never letting on how his heart did a jimmi-flip every time Vince said it. He’d started to think of the song as actually being called  _ Our Song Howard!  _

The whistling stopped when it reached the point in the song where Howard had been forced to stop because of the rising sun. 

Howard sang the next little bit and the whistling mimicked him.

They continued like this. Trading phrases of the song back and forth until they’d gotten through the whole thing. Howard singing and the wisp whistling. 

The whistling began anew, starting the song over. When Howard didn’t join, the song started over.

“I’m so sorry Vince.” Howard said.

The whistling started the song over again only making it a few bars.

“I love you. I want you to know that.”

The whistling started over again. More insistent.

It hurt. Not to know whether Vince understood him. Not to know if Vince was going to be okay. What if this was as far as they ever got. What if Vince was stuck like this? Whistling in the dark. 

As a child, Vince loved going to Howard’s house. Every day, from the day they met onward, Vince just followed him home. Howard had never invited him over, but he was at Howard’s house anyway. If Howard stayed home from school because he was sick (a very rare occurrence as Howard treasured his perfect attendance record, the only award he ever received in school) then Vince would still show up after school.

Once Howard invited Vince to stay the night. To have a sleepover. He’d thought Vince would be excited to build a blanket fort, stay up late, watch movies and eat sweets (and get away from his foster father). But Vince refused the invitation. Howard extended it a few more times, thinking it must have been the timing or Vince just wasn’t feeling well, but every time Vince refused. He finally found out why their first night in the keeper hut at the zoo. For the first couple months they lived at the zoo, Vince dragged his sleeping bag out of the hut every night and slept outside, but eventually the weather got too cold and he had to sleep in the hut with Howard. Every night Vince woke up screaming. Terrible terrible nightmares. He hadn’t wanted Howard to know. Howard was slightly relieved to finally find out the explanation. He’d started to develop a bit of a complex about Vince refusing to sleep in the same room as him.

After the third night, Howard asked Vince what he dreamt of. Vince said in his nightmares he was invisible. He’d try and try to get people’s attention, but they’d just ignore him. Vince’s nightmares actually improved once he and Howard shared a room. Vince told Howard he was getting more sleep than he ever had in his entire life. Finally free of the nightmares that had plagued him since childhood. 

How cruel he’d been. Making Vince’s worst nightmare a reality. 

The tune began again. Asking for an answer. 

Howard fisted a tear away from his cheek. He forced a smile he wasn’t even close to feeling. Then started to sing. The whistling accompanying him. 

They went through the entire song before the wisp disappeared and the whistling went with it. 

It was a good start.

Xxx

Different. Different? Different.

Xxx

Howard didn’t see the wisp for the rest of that night. There was no shrieking either, but Howard could feel a presence. 

The sun rose and Howard rested a bit easier. They weren’t out of the woods by any means. Before now he hadn’t realized just how bad things had gotten. He should have, but he’d just been so so angry. Angrier than he’d ever been. Angry he was dead. Angry he was in a graveyard and not somewhere soft and warm and free of the anxieties that had plagued him all his life. Angry for reasons he wasn’t quite ready to examine yet. He’d turned all this anger on Vince, so he’d ignored how much Vince had needed him. Maybe even taking satisfaction in for once being the well liked one, but he hadn’t understood the stakes. What could happen when a spirit was neglected. Even though he should have.

The sun set and immediately Vince began shrieking. Howard searched for the wisp near his grave, but it wasn’t there. So Howard shuffled over to Vince’s grave. 

“Vince. I’m here. Can you talk to me?”

The shrieking continued. 

Howard sang a bit of  _ Our Song Howard _ ! 

_ I watched you suffer a dull aching pain _

Wind whipped the air, birds screeched and swirled the graveyard. If Howard was corporeal he would have been smacked hard in the face with a small broken branch.

Undeterred, Howard sang some more.

_ Now you've decided to show me the same _

The shrieking grew even louder. It wormed its way into Howard’s mind, making him feel like his eyes were throbbing, which was quite a feat considering he didn’t actually have eyes. The sound dug in like a spoon into ice cream that’s frozen solid from sitting in the back of the freezer for a couple years. It drove Howard to his knees. 

Howard kept singing. 

_ No sweeping exit or offstage lines _

_ Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind _

_ Wild horses couldn't drag me away _

_ Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away _

The shrieking stopped. The wind died down. Howard noticed some of the other ghosts grumbling about the state of their graves after Vince’s episode, complaining about blown over bouquets and wet leaves plastered to their gravestones. 

Howard heard timid whistling coming from behind his own gravestone. He walked over and saw the wisp. Yes, it was definitely the shape of a person. 

Xxx

He was someone. He could feel his someoneness now. The sounds. They pulled at him. He could almost remember having a memory of it.

Xxx

Howard sat back behind his gravestone with the wisp all night.

A few of his ghostly acquaintances came by, to invite him to a discussion they were having on Foucault or moral determinism. He shook his head no thanks. Others ostensibly came to see the progress he was making with Vince, but really they’d come to passive aggressively complain about all the racket Vince was making.

There was a time not so long ago when Howard had been embarrassed of Vince, hadn’t said much of anything to defend Vince when the other ghosts complained about him, but now he told them to sod off. Told them that Vince couldn’t help it and if they’d all been a bit nicer he wouldn’t be in this bloody state. And if they have anything else to say about his mate he’d come at them like a buzzard. Thanks. 

Vince discorporated whenever Howard raised his voice at the other ghosts, but once they were gone he regained his vague shape. 

Howard talked about anything he could think of. Anything to let Vince know he was cared for. Anything to draw him back onto this plane. Away from the true black. 

“You know. Halloween is coming up in about a month. Your favorite.”

“...”

“I know you didn’t go last year, but on Halloween we can leave the cemetery. Walk around.”

“...”

“That’d be nice aye? Night on the town. Go look at the decorations. I think we could phase through a wall and sneak into a club. When you’re dead you don’t have to pay a cover charge.”

Xxx

He loved the sounds. Loved the voice. He wished he knew what it meant. Wishing was new. He hadn’t wished in so long. He was happy to wish. Happiness was new too. 

He stayed as long as he could. Listening to the voice that filled him up. But eventually frustration took him over. He was on the verge of understanding. Understanding what the sounds meant. So close. Grasping for an answer dancing at the corners. If he concentrated too hard or not enough it crumbled to dust and he was lost again. 

He screamed with frustration.

Xxx

It was almost sunup when Vince started shrieking again.

They’d been doing so well. At least he thought they had. The Vince shape was becoming more distinct. Or perhaps it was Howard’s imagination and he was wasting precious time he could be using to devise a better plan to save Vince. He had to make this work.

Howard held out his hand toward the wisp.

“Woah. Hey there. It’s alright. It’s alright Vince. I know. It’s hard, but just keep concentrating. Stay on my voice.”

Xxx

The sounds were so nice. He recognized the sounds. Some of them. Words. Vince. Vince was a sound he knew. A word he knew. He knew it.

Xxx

Vince stopped shrieking again. 

Howard breathed a sigh of relief. Things really were improving.

“It’s okay little man. It’s all going to be okay.”

Over the next couple days, things improved steadily. Howard spoke slowly and clearly. He could tell Vince responded better when he used his name a lot. It seemed to give him something to hold onto. Every once in a while Vince would start shrieking, but if Howard slowed down and spoke in a low and comforting tone for a bit then Vince would stop. Tone seemed to matter more than content, in the early days, so he spoke general nonsense in as kind and welcoming a tone as he was able. 

One evening Howard couldn’t find Vince. He whistled, which had become their signal to each other and Vince whistled back.

He followed the sound of the whistling but every time he reached the spot where he was sure the whistling was coming from there was no wisp and the whistling seemed to be coming from a different part of the cemetery. After the third time he heard laughter before the whistling started again. Vince’s laugh.

“Oh you little titbox,” Howard murmured to himself, grinning from ear to ear. 

They continued this game of hide and seek a few more rounds before Howard finally found the wisp of Vince sitting in his usual spot behind Howard’s gravestone. 

Howard sat down. “Seems you’re feeling better tonight.” 

Laughter again. And oh how Howard had missed that laugh. He didn’t think he’d been aware of how much until he had it again. Thank God he hadn’t been aware, otherwise he would have been crushed under the weight of it. He nearly was anyway, but then Vince laughed again and Howard could only focus on the happy sound. 

Xxx

The voice. Howard. Was happy. He. Vince. Was happy too. 

Xxx

There were good nights and bad. Sometimes he could almost make out the planes of Vince’s face. See the shimmer of the mirror ball suit. Other nights all Vince could do was wail and scream, not able to hold his form at all, but Howard didn’t lose patience, and he didn’t lose hope. Bit by bit his little man was coming back to him. 

They were sitting next to Howard’s gravestone. Howard as usual was keeping a steady stream of words going to give Vince something to hold onto. He was in the middle of telling a story about their time at the zoo, and he was really getting into it so he almost missed it.

“How-ward.”

Howard stopped talking. He looked at Vince. Leaned forward.

“Vince. That was good. Can you do it again?”

“How-ward.” 

It was definitely Vince’s voice. Little above a croak, but he’d know that voice anywhere. Howard’s smile overtook his face. 

“Missed you. How-ward.”

“I missed you too little man. I missed you so much. I’m so sorry.”

Howard wished he could hug Vince. Not because he enjoyed the sensation all that much, but because he knew how much Vince would love it. How much it would help.

Xxx

Vince felt himself enough to be annoyed that he couldn’t seem to speak properly. He hadn’t spoken with Howard for so long. He desperately wanted to talk to him, but every time he tried to vocalize he could only get out a few words in a broken monotone. This frustration could only last for so long though because, drum roll please, Howard was speaking to him again! He’d hoped so hard that Howard would forgive him. Having Howard back made him so happy he just had to laugh. Laughter had always been his go to release valve for all his emotions and it was a relief to do something besides scream.

He still wasn’t totally himself. Not being able to speak was part of it, but he was also very aware that Howard couldn’t see him. Not properly. And he hated that. Vince loved to be seen. People didn’t dress the way he did unless they wanted to be seen. 

Over the course of the night he’d managed a few more words, but he could feel himself growing tired. The effort of making his voice audible was like trying to spell a word out loud that you didn’t know. You kept forcing out letters, hoping they’d resolve themselves into something coherent, but mostly you just felt stupid. 

He knew if he didn’t rest he’d start screaming again and it was well embarrassing and he could tell it made Howard nervous. Howard had explained a bit of what had almost happened and if Vince was feeling a bit more himself he would have been more scared, but as things were now he was having trouble grasping what had happened. Only that it had scared Howard quite badly. Badly enough that Howard was being so nice to him. Like he was suffering from a terminal illness, instead of already being dead.

He managed two more words before he went to rest.

“Good. Night.”

Xxx

He was talking. He was talking. He was talking!

It was all Howard could think about. If he’d ever skipped a day in his life he would probably be skipping at that moment. It was going so well. Howard wasn’t prone to optimism but there was much to be optimistic about. He was getting his friend back. And when Vince was back completely, and he was sure it was a matter of when, not if, they had quite a lot to talk about. 

Because after he and Vince had finished talking for the night he’d made an exciting discovery. He could interact with objects. He had known ghosts were capable of interacting with objects, it just took a while and required a lot of concentration and will power. Over the last 2 years Howard had attempted off and on to interact with his environment, mostly to alleviate the boredom. He’d been a ghost many years ago at the zoo when he’d briefly died and levitating the cup to frighten Fossil had been incredibly easy, but the Reaper, Phil, must have given him some extra juice to make up for the mixup because for the last two years he hadn’t managed to even budge a leaf. Certainly he could summon a wind to move things if he was angry enough, but it was imprecise. He wanted to be able to pick things up.

While he and Vince had been talking Howard noted a bottle cap near his grave. He’d nudged at it, more out of habit than anything, with no progress, but after Vince bid him good night he’d concentrated harder and was actually able to move the bottle cap. He’d been so surprised that he’d actually sent it flinging two gravestones over. 

“Well done Moon!” Pickins called from his own little plot next to theirs.

Vince and Howard seemed to be a bit of an anthropological study for Pickins and Howard would often catch him spying on them but tonight he was in too good a mood to worry about it. 

Howard wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bottle cap or his progress with Vince, but he grinned proudly in any case. 

“Thank you sir!” Howard shouted back.


	3. Chapter 3

The next night Howard rematerialized and whistled for Vince. The whistling in response was quieter. It sounded more of this world, not quite so disembodied.

Howard followed the sound of the whistling and came upon Vince. Not a vaguely Vince shaped wisp. But Vince.

Vince stood with his back turned. When Vince turned around Howard had to bite back a scream. 

Vince’s skin was gray and rotting, black hollows where his eyes should have been. His teeth showed through the rended flesh of his cheek. He looked, in short, like the corpse rotting in a box below their feet. He looked how Howard’s own body probably looked. 

The ghoulish figure grinned, crackling sinew further exposing mandible.

“Alright, Howard?”

It pained Howard to see Vince in such a state, especially since Vince didn’t seem to know what he looked like. It made Vince seem so vulnerable. So exposed. Without the armor of his beauty to protect him from the world.

It also hurt because it was such a stark reminder that Vince was dead. Really dead. Not just sort of dead. But very very dead. And that just wasn’t right. Vince Noir didn’t belong in a graveyard. Only able to come out at night. He belonged in the light. In the sun. Walking down the street, brightening the days of anyone he turned his brilliant smile on. It made Howard feel like he’d failed at some fundamental task.

Howard must have been staring because Vince crossed his arms and hunched over.

“Something. Wrong?”

Howard shook himself. “A’course not little man. Just happy to see you.” 

Howard tried not to wince when Vince’s grin widened further and Howard could see black and rotting gums. 

He wasn’t sure why Vince looked this way. All of the ghosts in the graveyard essentially looked alive. Some of them were completely indistinguishable from a living person excepting their inability to leave the graveyard. They looked normal. Their clothes impeccable. Many of them could interact with objects and each other. Some reconnected with their long lost loves. Others found that they were more happily parted in death and sought other companionship, but none of them looked like Vince. He’d have to ask Pickins about it. Pickins was one of the very first people planted in this particular graveyard and had seen much his couple hundred years in the cemetery.

But that would have to come later. For now, Vince needed his full attention. 

“How are you feeling today?” 

“Good.” 

Xxx

Howard was acting strange. Even stranger than usual. Vince had thought he’d be pleased that he was appearing as more than a smudge of fog, but Howard was darting his eyes around even more than usual. Usually when Howard acted this way it was because Vince had tried some new outfit or makeup style and it made him all flustered. It was one of Vince’s great joys in life to make Howard blush by swanning into their flat wearing something skin tight. The best reaction he’d ever gotten out of Howard was when he was 15 and Howard was 17 and he’d worn a dress and for the first time without it being a costume or a joke, well, without Vince  _ claiming  _ it was a costume or a joke.

_ Today was the day. He was finally going to buy it. Enough putting it off. He was Vince Noir. He wasn’t scared of anything.  _

_ Usually Vince went “shopping”. Howard insisted on the quotation marks since Vince never actually bought anything. He just liked to look at the beautiful colors and feel the soft fabrics. But today he was not “shopping”, he was shopping. He’d come into a bit of money. Bryan had sent him some money for his birthday and he’d managed to not blow it on sweets. _

_ He’d gone into his favorite second hand store. Priscilla’s. A lot of drag queens cycled their clothes through that store. There were gorgeous fun dresses and jumpsuits, colorful wigs, and the most beautiful platform boots. Someday Vince was going to own a million pairs of boots just like them. In every color.  _

_ He wandered through the aisles, fingers trailing through the clothes, cotton, rayon, polyester, silk. He loved the musty smell of the shop. It smelled like possibility. Like you’d find treasure if you just looked hard enough.  _

_ Priscilla’s was never very busy, except around Halloween. So Lola didn’t have a whole helluva lot to do besides read Cheekbone and ring up the occasional purchase. She’d seen the skinny kid come in before. He never bought anything, just browsed around. She knew a burgeoning confuser when she saw one. The long hair. The sloppy eyeliner. The studs and gems sewn laboriously to what was clearly a hand me down shirt. She recognized the bruise dusting his cheek as well.  _

_ He was staring at a rack of dresses with a worried expression that did not look like it belonged on his face at all. He had a face built for smiling. He took a dress off the rack then put it back. He stared at the dress again. He raised his arm to once again pull it off the rack, but then simply grasped the hanger for a moment, not even lifting it.  _

_ C’mon kid, Lola silently rooted for the kid. Take it down. Come ask me for a dressing room. You’re gonna fall in love with your reflection.  _

_ Lola pretended to read her magazine. But really she was watching the kid’s internal debate. She knew the script by heart, from when, as a kid, she’d finally tried on her mother’s red pumps while everyone else was at the market.  _

_ The debate went a little something like this: _

_ -Everyone will know. _

_ -That’s sort of the point. _

_ -What if I get beaten up? _

_ -Is it worse than this feeling?  _

_ -What if no one understands? _

_ -They will. (In Vince’ case “He will.”) _

_ The kid reached up one last time and removed the dress from the rack. It was very simple. A black cotton slip dress. _

_ He hugged the dress to his chest. Then walked up to the counter. Lola pretended not to notice him. _

_ “Alright?” He asked. _

_ She looked up from her magazine and the kid had the biggest smile she’d ever seen.  _

_ “Need a dressing room?” _

_ “Yeah. Thanks,” the kid said.  _

_ She led him to the back of the store where there were a few changing cubicles. She unlocked one for him. Noticing the way he admired her boots, Lola gave the kid a smile, “there’s a pair like these in the back. They’d go great with that.” _

_ She hadn’t thought there was room for the kid’s smile to get any bigger, but it grew all the same. _

_ “Wow! That’s genius! Thanks!”  _

_ As she dug around in the back for a pair of boots quite similar to hers just with a bit less of a heel, she heard his laughter coming from the cubicle. _

_ He’d worn the dress over a plain white t-shirt. He imagined it with the counter woman’s boots and then unbidden a black choker invaded the fantasy, it felt right, along with a very dark lipstick. Bruised plum or mocha. Bit of eyeliner, but not too heavy. It felt like him. He couldn’t help it as laughter burbled out of his mouth. He covered his mouth with his hands, but couldn’t stop smiling against his pressing palms.  _

_ For the first time the person on the outside looked like the person on the inside.  _

_ He’d never give up this feeling. Ever. He’d burn the khakis and hooded sweatshirts before he’d wear them again. _

_ He’d had a panic attack the first time his foster father forced him to wear khakis and a fleece to school. He’d told him to suck it up. Stop crying. Stop being such a girl. Vince didn’t mind the t-shirts and jeans so much. They weren’t quite right, but they weren’t completely awful either. And he even had a couple cool shirts, but his stomach dropped every time the khakis and fleece showed up in his dresser, recovered from whatever dark corner he’d stuffed them in. Claiming he’d lost them. He couldn’t go back to that. Not when he knew how could it could feel to dress like himself.  _

_ He’d only had one hit and he was hopelessly addicted. He would never try to just fit in again. Never had successfully fitting in made him feel the way he felt right now. Fitting in made him feel like a coward. This made him feel powerful. He finally liked what he saw in the mirror. In the years to come, Howard would often tease him about how he couldn’t walk past a reflective surface without admiring his reflection, how sometimes he got lost in his reflection like a budgie. But after hating what he saw when he looked in the mirror for so long he was just so happy to love how he looked. From this moment on, he derived great joy in being hopelessly vain. _

_ The beautiful woman from the counter rapped smartly on the door. “I found the boots.”  _

_ Vince opened the dressing room door. The woman smiled at him. She held a pair of boots. Sparkly gold cuban heels. They had a few scuffs. They smelled a bit musty. They were perfect. _

_ He couldn’t help it, he danced and posed in front of the cubicles where there was a larger mirror.  _

_ The woman, who’d introduced herself as Lola, asked him “What’s on your mind for accessories?” _

_ They found a simple black choker. It was quite sexy and quite grunge. Howard was going to hate how much he loved it. It made Vince giggle just to think about it. Lola also showed him some tubes of lippy. Her mate was trying to get a makeup company off the ground. He called it Goth2Boss. Everything from Vantablack to a tasteful nude. Vince picked a shade of purple so dark it almost looked black.  _

_ Lola rang up Vince’s purchases. He handed her all of his birthday money. He’d decided he was going to wear his purchases out of the store. As he prepared to leave the store to walk home, he hesitated. _

_ He turned back to her. “Is it really alright?” He asked her. _

_ She smiled. “Better than.” She walked over and smoothed the front of his dress. “Remember two things. Remember how you felt when you looked in that mirror. And remember to accessorize. Then everything will be alright.”  _

_ He threw his arms around her. Hugging her tight. Then he tossed a cheeky grin over his shoulder and walked out of the store.  _

_ He walked down the street. As he got closer to Chapeltown, the part of Leeds where he’d lived since Bryan returned him to the “world of man”, the streets got dirtier. The sidewalks were cracked, sticking up like great earthen jaws. People glanced at him with suspicion.  _

_ He was almost back to the house when a rough looking guy a couple years older than him approached. “Ow you doin’ princess?” _

_ “Fuck off.” Vince answered. Usually when he attracted this kind of attention he folded in on himself. But not today. Not after all he’d been through to get here. This prick was not going to ruin it for him. He did not break stride. _

_ “Wot?” The guy said, having to hurry after Vince because with the boots Vine was actually a bit taller than him, though thinner.  _

_ “You ‘eard me,” Vince said, playing up his accent. He could almost manage intimidating if he went full cockney. “Come near me again and I’ll ‘ave you. I’ll grass you up. Got tha’?” _

_ The guy stopped walking and Vince kept moving. He turned around and walked backward so he could flash the guy the ol’ two fingers, then whipped around and walked forward. He made it to the house, he never called it home-not even in his head, without further incident.  _

_ His foster father rarely spoke to him these days for which Vince was grateful. Vince marched straight past him into his room without making eye contact. He stayed in his room all evening, as he did any night he wasn’t over at Howard’s, tonight he didn’t even come out to get food, because some of his foster father’s mates were over. They were drinking and he could hear his foster father complaining about how the little bastard was clearly a poofter and if he wasn’t still cashing the government checks the little fairy woulda been out on his ear a long time ago. But he didn’t care. Nothing could dampen his joy. Absolutely nothing. He turned up his music and fell asleep dreaming of Howard’s reaction.  _

_ The next day he wore the outfit to school, Friday’s were free dress days where all the students could wear their own clothes instead of their uniforms.  _

_ Howard sat on the front steps of the school, the place he and Vince always sat together while they waited for the bell to ring. Howard didn’t see Vince as he approached. _

_ When he saw what Howard was wearing, Vince was filled with an overwhelming fondness for him. Howard hated free dress days. The rest of the week he knew precisely what to wear and it was one less thing to be anxious about. One less thing for the others to tease him about. Vince always offered to help him pick out an outfit (free dress days were Vince’s favorite) but Howard always turned him down. Deeming it preposterous. Today Howard wore a black turtleneck with hawaiian print shorts and black socks with birkenstocks. He’d topped this with a trilby in the most atrocious mustard Vince had ever seen.  _

_ Howard stared at a group of girls through holes he’d cut in an old copy of Global Explorer. _

_ Vince playfully kicked Howard’s foot. “Oi what you doin?” Vine deepened his voice to sound like an adult. _

_ Howard squealed and threw the magazine on the ground. He hadn’t turned around yet. _

_ Vince giggled. “It’s just me.” _

_ Howard whipped around, a grumpy look on his face. “Vince that’s not-” Howard’s brain short circuited as he realized what Vince was wearing. _

_ His tiny eyes scanned Vince from top to toe several times. Vince had to resist the urge to bite his lip. He didn’t want to eat off his lipstick. He settled for twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. _

_ “Well? What you think?” Vince asked.  _

_ The older boy tried to collect himself. “Yes. Well. It’s very. I mean that is to say that you...You look very…” He could do no more. _

_ Vince decided to rescue him. “Thanks Howard. You always know just what to say.” _

_ Back on solid ground. _

_ “Yes. Well. That’s one of my gifts isn’t it. Many a time have I been complimented on my...compliments.”  _

_ Vince looked amazing. Not because of the dress or the makeup. Howard had known those things were coming. It was only a matter of time. He’d seen the way Vince lingered in the aisles when they were “shopping.” Noted how Vince wouldn’t stop talking about some beautiful lady he’d seen who” wore the most genius coat” or “was wearing black lipstick, but it didn’t look scary, it looked well posh, imagine that!” How he always chose a costume that required a dress for Halloween. He’d been expecting Vince to show up one of these days in a dress, but what he hadn’t anticipated was how happy Vince looked. How sure. _

_ They’d been friends for 9 years and Howard had only caught glimpses of this Vince. When he was dancing to Jagger. When Howard’s nan, the only decent person in his entire family, showed Vince how to embroider. And on Halloween when they were small, and Vince could wear whatever he wanted without threat of bodily harm. Howard was looking forward to seeing this Vince more. And he knew he would. Vince didn’t have to say anything for Howard to understand he was never going back. _

_ “You look amazing Vince.” _

_ Vince beamed at Howard in a way Howard was not always sure how to handle. He thought that one of these days Vince would smile like that and he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d just lean over and kiss him. Just a natural impulse. Pure instinct and damn whoever was watching. It would be a reflex when faced with a face that beautiful. _

_ And that damn choker was driving him mad. He hated it. And he loved it. _

Xxx

Howard decided it would be better not to tell Vince how he looked. Howard had consulted with Pickins and Pickins told him that Vince would eventually look like his old self. That his current appearance was because he was so low on psychic energy after being ignored for so long. It took a lot of energy to maintain the facade of a lifelike appearance. Energy Vince just didn’t have at the moment. As long as Vince got a steady stream of social contact and he didn’t get too upset he would eventually be fine.

It would cause Vince nothing but pain to know. And at the back of Howard’s mind there was a voice that said “what if he finds out and it sends him to the true black?” No. Better not to tell him and just wait for the issue to fix itself.


	4. Chapter 4

“What do they do? When they go off into the trees over there?” Vince asked Howard. Vince was lying on his stomach with his feet kicked in the air, he pointed at a pair of ghosts heading toward a copse of beautiful ancient willow trees in the back corner of the graveyard. 

Vince was sounding more himself all the time. He could string together entire sentences and they’d even managed a crimp. He still got worn out but he’d learned to tell Howard and go for a rest instead of going full poltergeist or just disappearing with no warning. 

Howard cleared his throat. “Well...Vince I should think you...They go there to…”

Only due to Howard’s awkwardness, not in any way because Howard was effectively communicating, Vince figured it out. His eyes went wide. His smiled a crooked smile to the side. He looked impressed.

“No way! They go over there to shag? I knew this ghost thing couldn’t be all bad. You think any a’ them go for the Casper 3 way?”

“Vince,” Howard said sternly. “Some of these couples have been together hundreds of years. Some of them made new vows beyond death parting them. Some of them have been shagging since the 1700’s. Of course some of them go for the Casper 3 way.” He grinned his most lascivious lupine grin at Vince and Vince dissolved into laughter. Howard joined him.

Every night a different ghostly couple or throuple or orgy disappeared into the copse of trees at the back of the cemetery. And each night Vince watched them with jealousy. 

He and Howard had died before they ever got to be together. They’d only ever had the one kiss (though this was up for debate). And it was under duress. It made Vince so angry sometimes. That their chance to be together had been stolen due to a stupid accident. He was also angry at himself and angry at Howard for wasting so much time. They could have been together for so long if either of them had been willing to step up. 

Vince had known he loved Howard since he was 7 and Howard was 9. He’d known he was  _ in love  _ with Howard since he was 8. As he got older, 10, 12, beyond, the crush only intensified. Howard had been so tall and handsome. He carried a briefcase that he kept his “papers” in and was so very serious. Every month he submitted a different poem to the school literary journal. They rejected every single one. Often with nasty little notes. But Howard never let it stop him. No one understood his love of jazz. Not even his parents. But one day Howard decided he loved jazz and would not be dissuaded by this notion by anything so piffling as not having heard any jazz records. He was determined and when he finally heard Weather Report for the first time, he knew it was destiny. He was so steadfastly himself with his poetry and his blazers with trainers and refusal to do anything with his hair. Vince knew who he was very early but had trouble expressing it the way Howard did. Howard was fearless in his oddity. He didn’t need people to like him or understand him. Vince did and for a long time it held him back from truly being himself. Howard seemed to be fully formed. Vince didn’t embody his true self until the day he tried on that dress in Priscilla’s. Howard knew himself from birth. There was a simple truth to Howard Moon. 

It was part of what frustrated Vince so much. That Howard could be so 100% himself and yet still be too embarrassed to show Vince how he felt. Because he knew how Howard felt. And he knew that Howard knew how he felt. It was preposterous that neither of them could just take that final necessary step. Vince tried a few times, but sometimes he got tired of being the brave one. 

_ Vince was 7. Howard was 9. Vince was drawing a picture of Mick Jagger with lips taking over his face. He always liked to draw at lunch while Howard futzed around on his casio. Every birthday and holiday Howard’s folks, not knowing their son particularly well but knowing he liked music, would get him a different instrument. Keyboards. Guitars. Trumpet. Trombone. Oboe. Saxophone. But they never signed him up for any lessons, and he’d been kicked out of the school jazz band for arguing too much with the teacher. He’d been learning to play the trumpet when he was banned from class, so he’d gotten the basics down for trumpet and he’d managed to teach himself how to play passably well on the piano and guitar, but the more complicated instruments eluded him. He liked his small casio best for composing.  _

_ They sat outside on the steps at school where generally no one bothered them. Howard was forever coming up with strategies for how to prevent people from bothering them. It took him a long time to understand that it didn’t matter what he and Vince did they were always going to be targets so he may as well not worry about it.  _

_ Vince pressed down too hard and the lead snapped on his pencil. _

_ “Shit,” he muttered to himself. He’d been on a roll. Now he was going to have to find another pencil because he always lost his sharpener and this was just great. He’d lost his focus. And he always had such a hard time getting it back again.  _

_ Without a word Howard dug around in his briefcase and handed Vince a pencil sharpener. It was shaped like a cupcake and did not look like the type of thing Howard Moon would own at all.  _

_ “What. You just had this on ya?”  _

_ Howard shrugged. “You always lose yours. So I got this for you.” _

_ “Wow. Thanks Howard!” _

_ Vince threw his arms around Howard’s neck. Howard cast a quick look around to make sure no one was looking before he gingerly returned the hug.  _

_ He couldn’t believe it. A present from Howard. It was so genius. He would add it to the growing stash of things Howard had given him. _

_ Vince released Howard. He grinned and sharpened his pencil. He made to stick the sharpener in his pocket. _

_ Howard stuck out his hand. “Let’s have it back then.” _

_ “Wot?” _

_ “If you hold onto it, you’ll just lose it. I’ll keep it for you and you can use it whenever you want.” _

_ “So you got me a present. And you’re keepin’ it?” Vince asked. _

_ “Yes, sir.” Then quick as anything Howard snatched the sharpener away from Vince.  _

_ “That’s absolute rubbish. Give it ‘ere!” _

_ Howard shook his head. _

_ Vince launched himself at Howard. Howard easily held the sharpener out of reach. Vince smacked him in the balls, causing him to hunch over so Vince could snatch away the prize. _

_ “Vince, you prick.” Howard said in the funny whispery little old man voice every ballsack equipped individual got when they’d just received a nutshot.  _

_ Vince instantly felt guilty. He hadn’t really meant to hurt Howard. He fluttered around a bit. Wanting to help. But knowing that Howard would have a grand mal freakout if Vince tried to touch him. _

_ “Sorry Howard. Got a bit carried away.” _

_ Howard straightened up. He held out his hand. Vince pouted for a moment. Then he gave the sharpener back to Howard. Howard put the sharpener back in his briefcase, the contents of which he had never let Vince see. The briefcase had a combination lock on it and Vince had yet to crack the code. Vince leaned over quickly to try and get a glimpse of what was inside before Howard snapped it shut. He saw a bag of Haribo’s even though Howard hated Haribo’s. There seemed to be an airport travel sized hair spray even though Howard thought combing his hair once a week was an imposition. There was a David Bowie tape, even though Howard claimed he hated all music that wasn’t jazz. _

That was when he knew. He irrevocably, irresponsibly, irretrievably loved Howard Moon. He wasn’t able to articulate why at the time, he was only 7 for goodness sakes. It was only later he realized what it was. Howard’s sturdy pragmatism. His ability to look out for Vince even when Vince himself didn’t realize what the best course of action was. And most of all his seemingly infinite patience. People on the outside often thought that Howard treated Vince rather poorly. Snapping at him. Bossing him around. But what they didn’t see was that driving Howard mental was Vince’s favorite pastime. He loved to poke and prod at Howard until Howard snapped at him. Then Howard would feel bad and be extra sweet to him for the rest of the day.

Howard never got so fed up that he called it quits with Vince. Vince had played this game with other people, seeing how far he could push them, but they all eventually found their limit and would leave. They would decide they’d had enough. That he wasn’t worth the effort. They were done with him.

But not Howard. No matter how much he bothered Howard, no matter how much he teased him or broke his things or any of the other million little things that he couldn’t seem to help doing, Howard always forgave him. Always came round. And never left. At least not permanently. Vince could not say that about any other figure in his life and by the time he was in his 20’s he’d stopped trying to find another friend like Howard, someone else who would stick around the way Howard always had, so he relegated everyone he knew to acquaintance. He didn’t trust them enough to test them. 

That was why he loved Howard. He trusted him. He trusted him enough to be the annoying little titbox he truly was on the inside. Everyone else got Vince Noir Rock n Roll star. The life of the party. The nicest guy you would ever want to meet. Everybody’s best friend. The charmer. The faker. Only Howard got the unpolished Vince. The just woke up hungover and cranky Vince. The cockney bitch Vince. Even after Vince had done some truly unforgivable things like destroying the record he knew Howard had wanted for decades or throwing him over for a cape. Even after all that Howard still came back. 

When Howard started ignoring him. When Howard decided he was finally done with him. All of Vince’s worst fears had been confirmed. He wasn’t worth it. Anyone could leave. And eventually everyone  _ would  _ leave. But Howard had come back! Just like he always did. It may have taken some time. So much time Vince had literally lost his mind with the waiting, but he had come back. He was looking out for Vince with his sturdy pragmatism just as he always had. 

They’d had their entire lives to make a move and it hadn’t happened. Vince would be damned if they were going to waste their unlives as well.

He took a few steadying breaths. Just a habit. It did virtually nothing. But the ritual of it helped stabilize him. 

“Hey Howard,” he said.

Howard looked over at him. “Yes, little man?”

“D’you think. Um. Maybe. We could. Goovertothemtreessometime?” 

There! He’d done it! Except Howard was looking at him in complete confusion. 

“I’m gonna need you to speak at least 70% slower,” Howard said.

Vince lost his nerve a bit. Turning it into a joke. He spoke so slow the question sounded like a whale song. “Doooooooooooo yoooooooooooooouuuu waaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnt toooooooooooooo goooooooooo-”

“Vince. I haven’t got all night.”

“Yeah ya do! What you gotta better offer?” There. He could take refuge in banter. 

“Yes, sir. Howard Moon is quite popular with the unliving.”

“Wow. You finally found your people. Dead boring.” 

“Keep up with that and I’ll come at you sir.” 

“How ya gonna do that?”

“I got ghost moves,” Howard said.

“Do you,” Vince said.

“That’s right.” Howard karate chopped the air.

“You got nuffin’.” 

“Try me and find out.” Howard sounded positively flirty. Maybe Vince could salvage the exchange and make it romantic after all. 

“Alright. I will.” And with that Vince disappeared. He reappeared a few feet away. Howard chased him. Disappearing and reappearing in a bizarre game of Marco Polo. 

Vince reappeared in the copse of trees, he hid behind a tree, covering his mouth to muffle his giggling. The spot was actually well romantic. The trees came together to form a little canopy over the center of the grove. Sturdy wildflowers, Howard would call them weeds, bloomed their last before the cold completely overtook them. Fireflies danced in the air. Vince could see why this was  _ the  _ spot for ghost shaggin’. 

Howard appeared amongst the trees. “Where are you?”

Vince stepped out from behind the tree. “Boo.”

Howard grinned at him.

Xxx

“Gotcha,” Howard said.

“Or have I got you?” Vince said. He popped up right next to Howard. Spooking him.

“Don’t touch me,” Howard said instinctively. 

Vnce grinned a devilish grin, made all the more devilish because his face was still gray tinged and his sockets still looked empty. It might have bothered some. But Howard had never cared about Vince for his looks. They were certainly an asset, but, God help him, he liked Vince for his personality and that never went away. 

Vince stuck his arm through Howard’s torso. “I’m not touching you.”

“Vince.” 

Vince switched to sticking his hand through Howard’s head.

“I’m not touching you.”

“Aren't’ we a little old for this?” Howard tried to look stern but he kept ruining the effect by turning the corners of his lips down too aggressively, a sure sign he was trying not to smile. 

Vince loved playing “I’m not touching you.” As kids he’d start the game basically any moment Howard even thought about focusing on something besides him.

Vince walked around to Howard’s back and stuck his arm through the back of Howard’s skull so his hand appeared to come out through Howard’s mouth.

“I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you.”

Vince danced around Howard laughing. Thinking he was the cleverest little shit in the entire world. 

And as Vince laughed his features shimmered back into view. For the first time in a long time Vince looked like himself. Not fully, but he didn’t look like a rotting corpse either. Howard had missed those bright blue eyes more than he could put in words. That big smile. The smushed nose. He’d love Vince no matter what, but he had to admit it was nice to see Vince’s face.

Xxx

Howard was looking at him differently. Instead of a particularly shifty cockerell's eyes, his eyes were melting chocolate honey. Once at the zoo Vince had tried so hard to find the right color of paint for Howard’s eyes, but nothing looked right. Nothing captured the warmth and the depth. Every time he tried it didn’t come even close to capturing the real Howard. He got so embarrassed that he painted over Howard’s face with a pink blob. He still felt bad about how he’d made Howard believe that was how he saw him, when the truth was he saw so much of Howard it would be impossible to capture it all on canvas and it felt like blasphemy to paint anything but perfection. He tried many times. He had a stash of painted over canvases that had once held attempts of portraits of Howard, but none of them were  _ right.  _

Vince stepped very close to Howard. He moved his hand along Howard’s face. As if he was stroking it. Even though he wasn’t. 

“I’m not touching you,” he said, his voice husky.

Howard took an unsteady breath, he was dead, so there was no physical reason for the breath, which meant he’d been affected by Vince.

Vince skimmed his finger down as if he were drawing a line down Howard’s neck. “I’m not touching you.”

Xxx

Howard reached up. His moved his finger to trace the planes of Vince’s brow and nose. 

Vince leaned in, so close that Howard could see the flecks of darkness in his irises. 

His voice was so low. So close to Howards ear. He murmured, “I’m not touching you.” 

Even though he couldn’t feel the vibrations from Vince’s words he still felt a shiver run down his spine. 

Vince pulled back. He looked up at Howard from under his fringe. He tucked his hands behind his back. 

Howard stood square in front of him. He raised both hands and traced the slant of Vince’s shoulders down down to his hips. 

Vince shivered. A little gasp caught in his throat. Howard stepped closer and moved his hand down Vince’s front. Vince’s belly trembled with his fluttering breaths.

Howard ran his tongue over his teeth. He’d seen Vince do it a lot and it always drove him mad. “I’m not touching you.” 

If Vince’s half-lidded eyes were any indication the move was a success. Howard liked this. Using Vince’s playbook against him. All the little things Vince did to drive him mad when they couldn’t touch (due to Howard’s own idiotic rules). 

Howard dragged his hands through his own hair, lifting it off his neck. He’d meant to get a haircut after they got back from the cave where they’d met their end, but of course that hadn’t happened. He rather liked the length now. Somewhere Vince had come across the term Lion in Winter. Brian Christ knew where, and had instantly fallen in love with it, despite barely knowing what it meant, using it to describe Howard constantly once he had a little grey up top and a bit of length. 

Vince licked his lips. 

Xxx

He wanted to kiss Howard so badly. He always wanted to kiss Howard fairly badly, but this had taken things to a level not reached since he’d been a horny teenager and Howard had played his guitar at the school talent show. His strong sure fingers. The way he bit his lip as he played faster and faster (he’d been the fastest guitar player in Leeds), the way he fluttered his eyes open as he slowed back down. Vince had been enraptured. He’d wanted to throw himself onstage and kiss Howard in front of the whole school. When Howard finished his song, Vince was the only one who applauded. Everyone else sat there in dead silence. Even the teachers. Vince clapped and screamed like a girl at a Beatles concert, trying to make up for the entire world’s awfulness all on his own. 

He and Howard stood with their faces millimeters apart. If they’d been breathing Vince would have felt Howard’s breath tickle his lips. 

They tilted their foreheads toward each other, pretending for a moment that they could rest them together. 

Howard moved his hand, miming brushing Vince’s hair back. Vince tucked his own hair behind his ear.

Vince mimed dragging his thumb down Howard’s lip, Howard touched his own lip with his thumb at the same time. Their fingers overlapping, almost giving the illusion that Vince was the one doing the touching. 

Xxx

Yes sir, things were certainly hurtling toward...something. Howard wasn’t exactly sure how things were going to progress since he and Vince remained frustratingly unable to touch, but then a group of other ghosts blundered into the little willow grove.

“Unless you want in on the orgy I suggest you scram!” One of the ghosts said once he finally noticed Vince and Howard were there.

They scrammed. 

After they left the willow grove Vince reverted back to looking more like a wisp of smoke than even his usual zombified visage. Howard told him to get some rest. Convinced he’d worn himself out with all the disappearing and reappearing, not to mention looking like his old self for a time. 

“Come on little man. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“But I’m not even tired.” Vince was looking less Vince shaped by the moment.

“You’ve gotta keep your strength up. So we can go out on Halloween. It’s only a week and a half away remember?” 

Howard could still make out Vince’s smile even though he had faded almost completely away.

“Oh yeah. It’ll be genius.”

“Yes it will.”

As Vince faded away to rest, Howard thought he heard him say “I love you Howard.”

“Love you too little man.” He wasn’t sure if Vince could still hear him, but then Vince whistled a bar of  _ Our Song Howard!  _ And Howard knew he had. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a whole lot worse, but on the plus side trick or treating Baby Boosh!

The next night, Vince was back to his ghoulish appearance, but Howard was not discouraged. Progress took time. These days Howard found himself drawing on a great reserve of patience he hadn’t accessed since he was a child. He knew eventually Vince would be okay. And that was enough for him. 

They didn’t discuss what had gone on in the willow grove, but every once in a while he’d catch Vince staring at him with a soft smile on his face. And every once in a while Vince would lean very close and whisper in Howard’s ear, “I’m not touching you.” 

One evening, some kids showed up. Howard should have known this was going to happen. It was October. He supposed he should be glad they were just walking around with flashlights talking in hushed tones, jumping out from behind gravestones at each other. They weren’t spraypainting obscenities or digging up anybody’s body for Brian Christ knows what. 

Vince came up with the brilliant plan to spook the kids. Give em a little ghostly encounter for Halloween, which for Vince had always been a month long holiday. Actually longer. He started planning his costume in August but he could never settle on just one thing to be, so by the time Halloween hit, he’d sewn so many costumes he had to make periodic costume changes throughout the night so none of the costumes felt “left out.” Then he’d insist on leaving the decorations up until it was time for Christmas. Vince hated to take down holiday decorations. He said the flat felt so sad with nothing special on the walls. So the Halloween decorations would stay up until Christmas. Christmas until Valentines’s Day. Valentines’ day until Easter. Then after a month of bunnies and chicks and pastels Howard would finally put his foot down and take everything down until Halloween rolled around again. 

“Come on Howard!” It’ll be genius!” 

“Little man, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like a-”

“Just a bit a’ fun. We spook em real quick. They’ve got a great story to tell and we have a laugh.”

Howard reluctantly agreed. He was not good at scaring people. Whenever he tried to spook someone as a joke they were never surprised and were generally underwhelmed. The only time he managed to scare people was when he didn’t mean to. Then he felt like a monster. 

The kids discussed a game of Ghosts In the Graveyard. Which Vince thought was genius. “Ghosts in the graveyard.  _ In a graveyard! _ ” 

Howard was less enraptured by the dazzling wordplay.

Vince set forth the plan. “Alright Howard. You go out first. Then I’ll appear behind while they’re distracted. The old one two.”

So as a group of kids wandered past his gravestone Howard popped into view. He raised his hands over his head and let out a half hearted growl.

“Wot’re you supposed to be?” One of the kids said.

“I’m not supposed to be anything. I am a ghost,” Howard said. 

“What a dumb prick,” the kid laughed to his friend, “‘e’s a ghost ‘oo ain’t got nuffin betta ta do than jump out atta bunch a kids like a pervo on kindergarten roundup day.” 

A girl piped up. “Yeah. Where’s your trenchcoat pervo?”

“I am not a pervo. I am a spirit. You are ruining my eternal slumber with your shenanigans.”

“This guy is so fucking lame.” The teenagers all laughed. 

Howard felt his own form go a little shaky round the edges. Feeling hot and embarrassed. This always happened. Always. Vince would lead him into some sort of ridiculous situation where he ended up looking like a plonker. He hated it. 

As the teens laughed Vince stomped out from his place behind a tombstone, not bothering to poof into existence like they’d planned.

“Oi! Stop talkin’ ta him like that. That is not on!”

When the teenagers saw Vince they all screamed. Long bloodcurdling screams. Then they ran off screaming into the night. 

Howard needed to move this situation along before Vince had too much time to think. He’d been so stupid. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He'd gotten used to Vince's face. Hadn't thought about how scary it would be to someone who didn't know it was Vince in there.

“Well done Vince,” he said. “You spooked em. They loved it.”

“They were scared of me,” Vince said.

Howard played dumb. “Yes. That was the object of the entire ridiculous exercise. Mission accomplished.” 

“They wasn’t scared of you. But they was scared of me.”

“Yes. You are the superior scare craftsman. I give you top marks.”

Xxx

“Howard stop it,” Vince said. “Don’t treat me like I’m thick. We both know I didn’t do anything. Wasn’t even trying to scare them. Why was they scared of me?”

Howard shook his head.

“Why you been lookin’ at me different?”

Howard shook his head again.

Vince had ignored Howard’s strange behavior. Chalked it up to general Howard weirdness, but he couldn’t do that anymore. There was more to it. Howard refusing to answer confirmed it. If everything was normal Howard would get angry. Defensive. He only got quiet like this when he knew he’d really fucked up. 

Xxx

Something clicked so loudly in Vince’s brain Howard was almost sure he could hear it.

“What do I look like Howard?” 

“You look like you.”

“Those kids were fuckin’ terrified Howard. They took one look at me an’ lost their minds.”

Howard opened his mouth. Vince raised his finger. Cutting him off.

“And don’t say it’s like when all the girls would scream when they saw me walkin’ down the street like I was a Beatle or somethin’, this wasn’t the same. I can tell the difference.”

Vince looked deadly serious. He was frozen. Like a cobra coiled and waiting to strike. If Howard didn’t think very carefully about his next words he was going to regret it.

“You haven’t-after what happened, you haven’t looked like yourself.”

Cold horror writhed in Howard’s stomach as Vince went translucent. He could see the trees that surrounded the graveyard through Vince’s torso.

“Please. Please don’t be upset Vince. It’s only temporary. It will be okay.”

Vince was losing definition all the time.

“What do I look like Howard?”

“It doesn’t matter. Vince. I swear it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! How can you not see that it matters!” Vince screamed, his voice taking on a booming echo. The wind kicked up.

Xxx

Howard didn’t understand. He’d never understand. He didn’t wouldn’t couldn’t. Vince had to fight so long and so hard to love the person he saw in the mirror. For the first 15 years of his life it was a constant battle to make his outside match his insides. To feel confident. To feel like he was worthy of love and attention. But not only that. To feel like himself. Every time he had to act or look like someone other than himself it hurt him. It may not have been a physical pain. But it was tangible. Palpable. It manifested as an ache in his chest and a tremble in his hands.

And he’d just been walking around for weeks.  _ Weeks. _ Without knowing. It was like walking around naked. It was  _ worse  _ than walking around naked. He felt exposed. It was worse than wearing khakis and a fleece. 

“Tell me what I look like!”

“You look like a-” Howard shook his head. A deep furrow between his eyebrows. “Please Vince,” he whispered.

“Tell me.”

Howard swiped his hand over his face, hiding it from Vince’s view. “You look dead Vince. Very very dead.”

Xxx

Vince stood in his old pigeon toed stance with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Howard wished so badly that he could hug Vince. Show him he was loved. Fix this.

Tears drifted down Vince’s graying cheeks from his empty eye sockets. 

Howard realized he was terrified. He’d thought he’d known fear. With all of the monsters and creatures and dangers they’d faced, but now he knew that was only a pale imitation. This was real fear. 

Xxx

He knew it was coming. He couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. A shriek ripped from his throat.

Howard stepped forward, his hands out. Placating. “No. No. Vince don’t-”

Vince couldn’t help it. The pain and confusion came from the depths of his soul.

Who could love him now? Who could love him now? Who could love him now?

Xxx

Howard had to do something. He  _ had  _ to. He couldn’t lose Vince. Not like this. With him hurting and confused and heartbroken. 

Vince’s screaming grew louder and as it grew louder Vince faded away. All of his energy. All of his strength going into the shriek. He was screaming himself into nothing. 

Xxx

Nothing there but whistling wind.

Xxx

Then there was silence.

“Vince.”

“...”

“Vince!” 

“...”

“Vince!” Howard screamed. He kept screaming. He’d have screamed himself hoarse if he still had vocal cords. “Please, please Vince. Please. Come back.”

There was only the rustling of dead leaves. 

_ This was their first year trick or treating together. Vince was 8. Howard was 10. Every day for the entire month leading up to Halloween Vince approached Howard with a different costume idea. _

_ “I’m going to be Bowie from Labyrinth. I’m going to be a unicorn. I’m going to be a witch.” _

_ Howard liked Halloween well enough. Though as he got older he liked it less and less. When you were very small the older kids left you alone, because it wasn’t sporting to steal from a 5 or 6 year old, and someone would surely step in. But no one seemed to mind if kids picked on a gangly 9 or 10 year old, they were considered fair game. Howard chose his Dracula costume from a rack at the drugstore a week before Halloween with very little fanfare. Vince felt that if you were doing something without fanfare were you even actually doing it? But he still hadn’t settled on a costume and Halloween was the next day. _

_ “What are you gonna do Vince? All the best costumes are going to be taken.”  _

_ “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. And it’ll be genius.”  _

_ Howard had learned to trust Vince when he made these assertions. It did always seem to work out for him in the end. _

_ “Well. what are you going to be?” _

_ “Wolfman, I fink,” Vince said. _

_ The next night Howard walked to the house of Vince’s foster father. He knocked on the door and waited to be let in. As the older boy it was his responsibility to pick Vince up and walk him around the neighborhood.  _

_ Pet Sematary by the Ramones blasted from what could only be Vince’s bedroom door.  _

_ Vince’s foster father scowled at the noise. “You can go on back,” he grunted. _

_ In his little room, Vince whirled around in a circle. Singing along to Joey Ramone. _

_ “I don’t wanna be buried, in a pet cemetery,” Vince did his best impression, getting the american accent almost right “I don’ wanna live my life agaaain.” He made drum noises with his mouth.  _

_ Joey Ramone was awesome and Vince loved how spooky the song was, but he honestly didn’t know what Joey was on about. Vince had never seen the movie or read the book the song referred to, so he had not been introduced to the downside of being a revenant. He thought it sounded genius. One life didn’t sound like enough to him. He was only 8 but he was painfully aware of the passage of time. Soon he’d be 30. Then he’d be dead! But that wouldn’t be so bad. He thought it’d be well cool to be a ghost or a ghoul. Especially if he had Howard with him.  _

_ He was theoretically putting the finishing touches on his makeup but he’d been so overwhelmed with happiness he just had to dance. He loved Halloween. He could be woteva he wanted! It was absolutely genius. No one got all frowny at him for wearing makeup or anything! _

_ There was a knock at his door. He opened it. _

_ “Howard!” He screamed. He threw his arms around Howard’s neck. Jumping up and down. As if they hadn’t seen each other 2 hours ago. He may have already eaten quite a lot of sweets, in preparation.  _

_ “Keep it down!” His foster father yelled from the other room. Vince flinched but then his smile was firmly back in place. _

_ Howard looked so handsome in his Dracula costume. He cut quite the imposing figure with his cape and fangs. _

_ “I thought you were going to be the wolfman,” Howard said, once Vince had detached himself.  _

_ “I decided this was way better.” Vince said. The song ended so he hustled over to his ancient tape deck and rewound the tape. _

_ “And what is...this?” Howard asked. _

_ Vince turned back around as the song started up again. _

_ “I’m Bride of Dracula!” Vince yelled, jabbing his hands into the air. _

_ He wore a white wedding type dress with fake blood all down the front. He wore fangs with more fake blood dripping from them, and a ripped up veil also covered in, you guessed it, fake blood. The dress was far too long for him and he had to hike it up in order to dance without tripping. _

_ “You’re going as Bride of Dracula?” Howard asked, running his hand down his Dracula costume as if Vince may have forgotten what Howard’s costume was. _

_ “Idn’t it genius?” _

_ Howard’s “yeah” was not particularly enthusiastic, but Vince was too excited to notice.  _

_ Howard was fairly sure Vince also didn’t notice his foster father’s snort of derision at the sight of what his foster son was wearing. When Vince had first arrived he’d made some efforts to “toughen the little poof up”, but they’d all failed miserably. These attempts largely consisted of the foster father screaming at Vince, for liking sparkles or wearing pink or squealing because he’d seen a cute bunny, until he cried and then screaming at him for crying. None of the man’s lessons had taken; Howard thanked Brian Christ for that every day. And eventually the man just gave up, choosing just to gnaw on his lips and glare at Vince whenever he happened to enter the man’s line of vision. Which was not often. _

_ Even at 10 Howard had a severe suspicion of authority figures. There was little warmth in his relationship with his own parents and so he’d never held the illusion that parents were infallible or knew best. He couldn't wait to get Vince out of this place once he was old enough. He’d pull him out of school if he had to. As Howard got older he sometimes didn’t know who he hated more. Vince’s foster father or Bryan Ferry. Who’d raised Vince until he wasn’t so little and cute anymore and had then dumped him into a system whose only job seemed to be squashing the light out of kids like Vince. Luckily Vince was indomitable in his own fruit salad way and had retained his spark until the day he died. And beyond.  _

_ Vince insisted that they hold hands because some video he’d seen at school said you always needed to hold someone’s hand walking down the street. Howard was pretty sure it was only when crossing the street but didn’t have the heart to disabuse Vince of the notion. Besides it was Howard Moon who didn’t like to be touched. And he was not Howard Moon. He was Dracula.  _

_ Still, he jerked his hand away anytime they passed kids their own age or older. Little kids didn’t care but Howard was expecting enough trouble tonight without inviting it down on their heads. Every time they got past a potential threat, Vince would reach over and grab his hand again, chatting happily about sweets and costumes and bats and decorations and how everything was genius genius genius.  _

_ Howard had no idea how the kid managed to maintain his sweetness. Howard already felt old and cynical. He never wanted that to happen to Vince. He’d do anything to make sure it didn’t. To keep Vince sweet and open. Anytime they had a fight Vince would stop to hug Howard before he stormed off. His face pulled into a mighty frown, cartoonish in its seriousness, he would wrap his arms around Howard and squeeze him tightly before stomping off. And when Howard stormed off Vince would trail after him yelling “you forgot to hug me!” Losing that light to the petty cruelty of the world would make the world an objectively worse place, and Howard had vowed to himself he would always try to make the world a better place. If his small contribution was to protect Vince Noir’s innocence then so be it.  _

_ He jerked his hand away from Vince as two big boys walked toward them. No one said it would be easy. Or that he was perfect.  _

_ Neither of them noticed the older boys turning back as they pass them, catching a glimpse of Vince recapturing Howard’s hand.  _

_ They walked up and down the street, their pillowcases (only babies used the pumpkin shaped buckets) fattening with candy.  _

_ Vince stuffed more and more candy in his mouth between houses. Howard wondered if Vince was going to have any candy left by the time they got back to Howard’s, where they would watch a movie before Howard would take Vince back to his house as he still refused to sleep over, or if Vince was just going to have a pillowcase full of wrappers. The little titbox had probably planned it that way so Howard would be forced to share his candy.  _

_ After a few hours Vince was virtually levitating from all the sugar. He spoke but Howard only got every tenth word or so.  _

_ Vince had finally let go of Howard’s hand, but only so he could spin around and dance to the music in his head as they walked along.  _

_ They paused at a corner, waiting for a break in traffic to cross the street. Vince had grabbed Howard’s hand again. His fingers were sticky with sugar. Safety first.  _

_ He heard a voice behind him. “Well, idn’t this cute.”  _

_ Howard hunched his shoulders. Ignoring the voices he recognized. The boys from earlier. He’d had run-ins with them before which was why he’d been so relieved when they’d walked right past them earlier. _

_ Howard snatched his hand away from Vince.  _

_ “Nice couples costume. Don’t you think Moon and his girlfriend look adorable?” _

_ At this, Vince whipped around and hotly informed them, “I’m not Howard’s girlfriend. I’m his boyfriend so sod off!” _

_ “He’s a boy. We’re friends. He doesn’t understand…” Howard offered up weakly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as it would make zero difference. _

_ Vince grabbed Howard’s hand again. _

_ “Come on Howard. Let’s go,” Vince said, ignoring the older boys’ laughter. _

_ Vince marched forward, dragging Howard behind him, but then one of the boys stepped on the back of his dress, pinning it to the ground. Vince fell over backwards, slamming his elbow on the ground. _

_ “Hey.” Howard said with a surprised quietness. He was used to the boys picking on him. But not Vince. Vince was little. You weren’t supposed to hurt little kids.  _

_ Then one of the boys sat on top of Vince, holding his arms down. _

_ “Hey,” Howard said a little louder, taking a step toward them. His fists clenched. Not entirely sure what he was going to accomplish but sure he had to do something.  _

_ The other big boy socked Howard in the stomach. He fell to his knees.  _

_ The boy sitting on Vince wore a devil mask. The one who hit Howard had his face painted like a satanic clown.  _

_ Vince kicked, trying to get free, but Devil had him well and truly pinned. Vince could feel teardrops prickle at his eyes. The back of his dress was probably all muddy. His elbow really hurt. And the other boy had just hit Howard really hard. He didn’t want to cry but it was all building up to an aching in his chest and he couldn’t help it. _

_ Howard heard Vince whimpering. He crawled toward Vince but Clown grabbed him by his hair and he screeched in pain. _

_ “Howard!” Vince screamed. “Let go of him you wankers!” _

_ This wasn’t right. He was supposed to be protecting Vince. Yelling at them to let Vince go. Howard surged to his feet, startling Clown who still had his fist buried deep in Howard’s hair. Howard felt some of his hair disconnect from his scalp, but he didn’t slow down. He tackled Devil off of Vince. He sat on Devil. Walloping him with large artless swings.  _

_ Vince screamed and Howard looked up to see Clown had grabbed Vince by the front of his dress. Vince’s feet hung a couple inches off the ground. The front of the dress ripped, dumping Vince back onto the ground.  _

_ Vince sobbed as he held the front of his dress together curled up in a ball on the ground. _

_ This was enough of a distraction for Devil to get some leverage and get away from Howard. He got to a sitting position and socked Howard in the ear.  _

_ Clown ground Vince’s face into the cold damp grass of the lawn upon which they were brawling. It didn’t hurt. But it was humiliating and was messing up his makeup. He knew he could breathe but it was hard and that scared him. The Clown’s knee ground into his back. _

_ Howard and Devil grappled with the Devil always maintaining the upperhand. _

_ Vince squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on not screaming. Somewhere behind him he heard a man yell. _

_ “Oi! You leave that little girl alone! Let ‘er up. Whassa matter wit’ you?” _

_ Clown got off Vince. “It ain’t a girl. It’s a fairy.” _

_ The man’s voice lost a degree of self righteousness. “Oh. Hmph. Well in any case. Leave ‘im alone. E’s only little.”  _

_ Vince sat up. Blades of dead grass clung to the fake blood around his mouth. Rough hands hauled him to his feet and brushed him off.  _

_ The man who’d made the boys stop. _

_ “Alrigh’ tha’s enough a’ that. Quit ya cryin’,” the man said. _

_ Vince nodded, but he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in his hands.  _

_ When the man yelled, Howard and Devil had also stopped fighting. Now Howard came over and slung a hand around Vince’s shoulders.  _

_ “It’s okay Vince. It’s okay. Let’s get outta here.”  _

_ Howard’s hair stood up in wild peaks. His face flushed and his shirt ripped a bit at the collar. But all in all he’d fared pretty well. Better than he usually did.  _

_ Vince was a shambles. The front of his dress hung open. Ripped. The back was coated in blades of grass and mud. His face was smeared with tears and makeup and dirt and try as he might he could not, could not, stop crying.  _

_ “I w-w-wanna go home.” Vince sobbed. _

_ “Okay. I’ll walk you back to your house,” Howard said, rather wanting to go home himself. _

_ “No!” Vince howled. “I wanna go home! I wanna go back to the jungle. I hate it here! Everyones mean and they all hate me! I wanna go home. I want Bryan. I don’t know why he le-le-left me herrrrrre.” His voice rose into a scream. _

_ Howard pulled Vince into a tight hug. Squeezing Vince for all he was worth. _

_ He’d had no idea Vince felt this way. Vince was always so happy. So cheerful. Clearly there was more going on than just tonight. Maybe he’d been wrong when he thought Vince didn’t notice the look on his foster father’s face earlier. Maybe it took a lot more effort for Vince to be happy than Howard realized.  _

_ “I’m so sorry little man. I’m so sorry.” _

_ Vince sobbed into Howard’s shoulder. His little hands fisting into the fabric of Howard’s cape. _

_ Even the older boys seemed a little surprised by the intensity of Vince’s reaction. Devil slid his mask off and watched for a moment before he and Clown walked away. The man who rescued them shook his head and went back inside. Leaving Vince and Howard standing alone on the quickly emptying street. It was getting late. _

_ Eventually Vince’s sobs subsided. He pulled his face away from Howard’s shoulder.  _

_ “Could we go somewhere quiet Howard. I feel like everybody is looking at me, Vince said. _

_ As they walked to a nice quiet spot Howard knew, where no one would bother them, Vince didn’t try to grab Howard’s hand once. He could pretend it was because Vince was too busy trying to hold the front of his dress closed but he really only needed one hand for that. He knew the real reason. _

_ Tentatively, Howard reached out and took Vince’s hand. The first time he’d ever grabbed Vince’s hand first. Vince squeezed Howard’s hand. _

_ They walked to Howard’s spot. A place he liked to go and think. He’d started writing poetry a few a year ago and it was a nice place for him to sit and write. It was a little cemetery on the outskirts of town. He would sit with his back braced against one of the tombstones. Feeling very poetic. Very byronic. And write poetry. No one ever bothered him there. _

_ The gates of the cemetery were open. Howard thought that was rather irresponsible since it seemed like people could get up to all sorts of mischief in a cemetery on Halloween, but he wasn’t going to question it. He didn’t know if he had it in him to hop a fence and he didn’t know if Vince would be able to either. He was trembling all over. _

_ Howard led Vince over to a memorial bench. Sat him down and went to work cleaning Vince’s face off with his cape. Once he deemed Vince acceptably clean he sat beside him on the bench. Vince immediately huddled into his side, laying his head on Howard’s shoulder. Howard reached over and stroked Vince’s hair. He’d lost the veil in the fight and neither had noticed before they left.  _

_ “I’m sorry Howard,” Vince whispered. _

_ “For what?” _

_ “The only reason they beat you up was because of my costume. If I’d been the wolfman then they would’ve left us alone and we could have kept havin’ fun.” _

_ “It’s not your fault,” Howard said firmly. “Those boys were looking for trouble. It wouldn’t have mattered what you were dressed up as. Alright? It was just an excuse.” _

_ “But-”  _

_ “No buts.” _

_ “Butdon’tyouever-” When Vince saw Howard wasn’t going to cut him off he slowed down. “Do you ever wish I was normal. That I didn’t like makeup and sparkles and clothes. Maybe then people would like me more and we wouldn’t get picked on so much?” _

_ Howard kneeled in front of Vince. He took both of Vince’s hands. He wasn’t good with eye contact but he forced himself to look deep into Vince’s big blue eyes. _

_ “Never. Not ever. Do you wish I was more normal? That I liked pop music and car magazines instead of jazz and poetry?” _

_ Vince shook his head so vehemently his fair whipped around. “No!” _

_ Howard smiled a little at Vince’s ardency. _

_ “I feel the same way about you. I like you the way you are.” _

_ Vince smiled. “Thanks Howard.” _

_ Howard decided that the best course of action would be to make Vince laugh. Then they could go back to his. Eat some candy, put on a movie, and forget the unfortunate episode that had derailed their night. _

_ “I am not Howard,” Howard said, adopting a transylvanian accent. “I am Drac-oo-la.” _

_ Vince giggled. He tried a transylvanian accent as well but he wasn’t as good at it. “And I am bride of Draculaaaa.”  _

_ “Come my sweet. Let us take in de moo-sic of de niiiight.” Howard pulled Vince to his feet and they waltzed around the graveyard. Howard kept tripping over Vince’s dress and Vince couldn’t stop laughing.  _

_ Howard stepped on the hem of Vince’s dress again and they both fell down. Vince fell on top of Howard.  _

_ He looked at Howard’s melting chocolate honey eyes and he just couldn’t help it. He squeezed his eyes shut, dipped his head down, and kissed him. He kept his lips firmly closed and pressed them to the corner of Howard’s mouth. He probably should have aimed before he closed his eyes. Something he’d have to remember for next time.  _

_ It was the best thing ever. Better than Neptune Fizzes. Better than grape lipgloss. Better than listening to the Ramones or Bowie or even Jagger. He didn’t care that his arm hurt. That his chest was cold. That his dress was ripped. Absolutely genius. _

_ When he opened his eyes he saw Howard staring at him. Frozen. _

_ “Uh,” Vince said.  _

_ Oh no. He’d ruined it! After Howard was being so nice to him and making him feel better and he’d ruined it. _

_ Vince just kissed him. It didn’t sink in so Howard repeated the thought. Like black text on a blank page. Vince just kissed him. He was-that is to say-His mindtank was overflowing. Every time he tried to start a new thought it got deleted immediately.  _

_ Vince avoided his gaze. Looking guilty. And he couldn’t allow that.  _

_ Howard propped himself up on his elbows and kissed Vince. _

_ Two chaste little pecks. _

_ Vince could feel the most wonderful blush burn across his cheeks. He climbed off Howard and sat down beside him, covering his face with his hands and giggling. _

_ “What you laughin’ at you little muppet.” _

_ “Nuffin. I’m just happy is all. That was my first kiss.”  _

_ Howard was getting a bit overwhelmed by the entire thing. It had been his first kiss as well, but he had to find a way to get a handle on the situation. He was older. He had to take control. He wasn’t ready for any of this. A joke. That would help. It would puncture...whatever this was but at least he might be able to form a coherent thought.  _

_ “Not mine,” Howard said. _

_ Vince goggled at him. “Wot? No way. You ain’t kissed nobody.” _

_ “Howard Moon has never kissed anyone. But I am not Howard Moon. I am Drac-oo-la.”  _

_ It took Vince a moment, but then he finally got it. He didn’t know why Howard was saying this. But he was happy to play along.  _

_ “Oh. Then it weren’t my first kiss either since I’m your bride and all. We probably kiss all the time right?” _

_ “Yes, indeed my pretty.”  _

_ Vince blushed even harder. He knew Howard was just playing the character, but he loved that Howard had called him pretty anyway. He decided it still counted. _

_ Over the years it became a running joke. Howard claiming he’d never been kissed. Vince would say “rubbish, I was your first kiss.” Then Howard would say “No. That was Drac-oo-la,” in his transylvanian accent which had only gotten better with time. It never failed to make Vince giggle. But Vince knew the truth and during the hard times Vince would cling to the thought, like it was a teddy bear fresh out from being tumbled in the dryer. Howard Moon was his first kiss. And he was Howard’s.  _

_ Howard helped Vince to his feet. He gallantly offered Vince his cape since Vince was shivering mightily from the multiple spills on the cold ground. Vince wrapped it around himself, covering his exposed chest and smelling that great Howard smell, somehow fresh and homey at the same time.  _

_ Before they left the graveyard Vince stood on his tiptoes and kissed Howard one more time. He made sure to keep his eyes open so he could aim. The kiss lasted three seconds. Vince thought about those three seconds a lot. When he was walking home from the club, feeling a bit dirty after having to shove some wanker off who tried to jam his hand down his trousers. After he got in a fight with Howard. When some woman at Topshop called him an ugly bitch with a huge nose. He would pull out the memory. Run his fingers over it like it was a rosary or some other religious relic. Sometimes he thought those were the sweetest three seconds of his life. _


	6. Chapter 6

Vince was gone. It had been 3 days and Howard hadn’t seen or heard him once. But it went beyond that. For the first time Howard didn’t feel any sort of presence. Even when Vince was screaming and shrieking for days on end Howard had still been able to detect his presence. Now he couldn't. He was just...gone. 

Every night he tried to figure out away to bring Vince back. He sang their song. He whistled. He screamed. Anything he could think of. Nothing was working. He was alone.

He needed to do something. He couldn’t face eternity without Vince. Not when they’d finally found each other again. Things were so good. Better than they’d been since the early zoo days. Howard cherished the zoo days. Even though he hated the circumstances that made them possible. The day Vince moved in with Howard in the keeper’s hut, he had come to visit Howard at the zoo sporting another black eye.

If the black eye came from someone at school or from the neighborhood Vince wouldn’t stop talking about it. Painting himself as a cockney bitch and how even though technically he had lost he was still better lookin’ than his assailant and that was all that really mattered. But when the black eye came from his foster father, Vince absolutely refused to talk about it. He didn’t go sullen. Or quiet. If anything he acted even more cheerful than usual. Teasing Howard. Giggling at jokes inside his brain then utterly failing to explain to Howard what exactly was so funny. On those days he couldn’t sit still. At school he often got told to stand in the hall or go to the office because he just couldn’t focus. Couldn’t sit still. Sometimes he would opt to cut class entirely and just visit Howard at the zoo. Dancing in the pavilion of the zoo with his bright yellow walkman, entertaining himself because Howard had to “stop hanging out with your ugly girlfriend and do some work around he-ah!” 

_ Howard had been at the zoo a little under a year. He’d moved out of his parent’s home the day he turned 18 with very little ceremony. He just packed his essentials and moved into the keeper’s hut at the zoo.  _

_ This time Vince’s black eye was accompanied by a nose splint. As usual Vince refused to talk about it.  _

_ Howard was 18. Vince was 16. Every time Howard tried to ask him what had happened Vince just started singing. He’d been completely stuck on Honky Tonk Women lately. He’d just start belting it right in the middle of Howard’s sentence.  _

_ “Vince. I’m trying to ask you-” _

_ “It’s the hooooooooo-oooooo-oooooooo-nkytonk women.” _

_ Howard was feeding the birds in the aviary and trying to pump Vince for information at the same time. Because even Tommy had pointed out that he was spending too much time with the “pointy witch” and too little time doing his job. And when Bainbridge and Tommy agreed on anything it was serious. _

_ Vince danced around the aviary. He’d somehow come into possession of a feather boa that he hadn’t had when he’d entered the zoo. Accessories seemed to rain down from the heavens like manna for Vince.  _

_ He wiggled his hands down to his hips and strutted around.  _

_ Howard carelessly tossed some seed into a cage. A bird squawked at him indignantly.  _

_ “Vince. What happened?” _

_ “Gimme, gimme gimme, the honkytonk blues.”  _

_ Vince spun around switching between the lyrics and whistles Howard took to be the lyrics in bird language. _

_ Vince always loved an audience. Especially a captive one. He pranced and preened. _

_ Finally Howard got frustrated and grabbed him. “Please just stand still for two seconds and talk to me.” _

_ Every single bird in the aviary squawked angrily at Howard at the same time.  _

_ Vince wrenched away from him. He clenched his fists a few times. Trying to find a different tack. Not wanting to be angry but not able to help it. “Congratulations Magnum PI. You solved the case. What d’you want me to say ex-zactly? That he hit me? Alright. He hit me.” His voice cracked. _

_ Blood dripped out of Vince’s nostril. It dripped on his Queen t-shirt. Vince tipped his head back. He sounded near tears, his voice nasal as he clamped his fingers around his nose. “Goddamnit. I’d just gotten it stopped.” _

_ Howard pulled a travel sized packet of tissue out of his pocket. Always prepared. Always had what Vince needed when he needed it. Well. Almost. _

_ Vince twisted a piece of tissue and jammed it up his nose.  _

_ “Look. He didn’t mean to do it that hard. And I was playin’ my music too loud and…” _

_ Howard didn’t hear the rest of Vince’s excuse. One of the old man’s lessons had finally sunk in. Howard was damned if there would be another.  _

_ “Come on. Let’s go.” _

_ “Go where?” _

_ “Back to yours. Come on.” _

_ Howard clocked out and he led Vince out of the zoo. Fossil yelled after him. Asked him what the hell he was doin’? And Howard responded, “a personal errand. Thanks.” _

_ When they got back to Vince’s house, Howard pointed toward Vince’s bedroom. “Get your stuff.” _

_ “What you mean?” _

_ “You’re coming to live with me.” _

_ “Wot’re, are you-” It took Vince a moment to process what exactly was going on. When it finally got through a huge smile spread across his face. He was being rescued.  _

_ While Vince packed, Howard drafted a note to Vince’ foster father. A note he didn’t want Vince to see. _

_ Essentially it said that if the old bastard didn’t report that Vince was gone he could keep cashing the checks. So it was in his best interest to leave them alone. Vince’s foster father never contacted them. Never came looking for them. _

_ Vince lugged out a gigantic knapsack stuffed with every item of clothing he owned and all his shoes and makeup. And left everything else. Howard ended up having to carry the bag after about half a block because it was packed so tight with the clothes Vince had made and purchased and nicked over the years that it was as dense as a neutron star.  _

_ Vince sometimes imagined himself to be a princess and Howard his knight, rescuing him from the dragon. He knew he was too old for it, but how else could he think about it? He was all mooney eyed (pun intended) over Howard for the first few years they lived together. He didn’t really start to settle down until he’d seen how scared Howard was of having to fight that Kangaroo. The first time he was able to rescue Howard back.  _

_ A lot of people thought the rescue tally was fairly firmly in Vince’s favor as he rescued Howard from some ridiculous sexually deranged creature on a daily basis. Rescuing Howard from Old Gregg and Bainbridge and aggressive arctic egg worshippers. Following Howard to monkey hell. But Vince still didn’t see them as even. _

Vince followed Howard to hell. The least Howard could do was return the favor. 

He went to Pickins with his plan. Pickins thought it was a terrible idea.

“You’re going to follow the kid into the true black?”   


“Correct.”

“How do you intend to find him?”

“We always find each other.”

“Moon, I don’t think you understand the nature of the-”

“No offense Mr. Pickins, but I don’t think you do either,” Howard said. “You’ve never been have you?”

“The hell I haven’t,” Pickins said.

Howard was completely taken aback. He’d been gearing up for a lovely speech about how he needed to be where Vince was and how they loved each other and it would transcend time and space and death itself. Pickins assertion rather took the wind out of his sails. 

“You have?”

“I’ve been here hundreds of years Moon. I’ve seen and done things you can only dream of.”

“Then you know it can be done. That I can find him. Bring him back.”

Pickins shook his head.

“You might be able to follow him. But you won’t find him.” 

“Of course I will.”

“I followed my love. Wilhelmina into the black. I searched and searched. It felt like an eternity, but I could never find her. I just wandered in the darkness. Until I couldn’t take it anymore. I left. It’s different when you go there with intention. Easier to leave because you still have your essential self. For those that go because they have to, their self is hidden. You’ll never find him. You'll never find anything.”

“Then I’ll spend eternity trying,” Howard said. 

For once Howard wasn’t trying to sound grand. Sounding grand was the last thing on his mind. And for that reason he finally managed it. He sounded like the hero he always wanted to be for the precise reason that he didn’t care whether he was a hero or not. He just wanted Vince back. 

“Tell me what to do.”

Pickins explained the process. Howard decided there was no time like the present. 

In order to follow Vince into the true black Howard had to deplete himself of all psychic energy. 

At first Howard wasn’t sure how to proceed. He tried screaming but it sounded underwhelming to his ears, nothing at all like the pained shrieking that had come from Vince. He wasn’t summoning elements. He needed to tap into the pain under the surface. He needed to give himself over. He thought back to his lessons with Monty. How he had summoned such pain and rage that he had blown people away literally and figuratively. How exhausted he’d felt in the aftermath, barely summoning the energy to tell Vince he was leaving. He’d known Vince didn’t really comprehend what he was saying, the gravity, but at that point he was too tired to force it through Vince’s thick skull. And he’d been quite magnanimous when he returned and Vince clung to him like a koala for days. He remembered thinking that perhaps he should threaten to leave more often. He felt so embarrassed by those thoughts now. 

He summoned up this guilt. Rage. Embarrassment. He screamed it into the night sky. 

Still not enough. His form wasn’t even giving at the edges. He needed more. 

He needed pain. He needed suffering. He needed to be completely drained.

Which meant he needed to think about the real reason he hadn’t spoken to Vince for the first two years they’d been dead. 

Of course he was angry to be dead. Of course he partially blamed Vince. But even under the worst of circumstances he never could have stayed angry at Vince that entire time. The anger was all mixed up in guilt and remorse. And his own self hatred. Which is why it had legs. 

See. Howard had made a promise to himself that he would protect Vince. That if his only contribution to the world was to protect Vince’s spark of innocence then he could die happy. But he hadn’t died happy. He thought he'd failed. He thought the world had slowly but surely robbed Vince of his spark. Howard could now see this was ludacris but he’d fully believed this while he was living and died believing it. When he looked at Vince all he could see was his own failure. His own weakness. When Vince made some snide remark or stayed out at the clubs too late or sneered, Howard knew he’d failed. So he’d started to criticize Vince. For a couple years there it seemed that nothing Vince did was right and so then Vince had grown ever more angry and hurt and had lashed out more which had just further confirmed Howard’s feelings that he’d failed. 

So when they’d died Howard had been so angry at Vince. He knew that Vince had been trying to repair things with an oldschool adventure. But he couldn’t get past his own failure. It hurt to talk to Vince. Hurt to look at him. So he’d ignored him for 2 years. Refusing to speak to him. Refusing to give Vince the chance to wheedle his way back into Howard’s heart. But then he’d come so close to actually losing him, and he’d seen that the real Vince had been there the entire time. That maybe Vince had grown and changed but his essential essence would always remain even when he was just a wisp of fog whistling in the dark. He couldn’t lose him now. Not when they’d finally found each other. Not when they’d finally been on the verge. Not when they hadn’t even properly  _ touched  _ yet.

With all these thoughts whipping around in Howard’s brain he let loose a pained scream that rose in volume. Leaves and rotting flowers spun into a great column at the center of the graveyard.

“Good! Keep going Moon!” Pickins yelled.

Vince reaching toward him in that cave with a colorful dart sticking out of his neck before everything faded to black. Vince at 11 refusing to look at Howard as he worried at his fat lip with his tongue. His parents constant looks of befuddlement and disgust anytime he tried to communicate any piece of his soul to them. Walking out the door of the Velvet Onion, sure he was leaving forever. Vince twirling in front of a mirror as Howard’s heart was breaking. 

These images flashed across Howard’s mind as he screamed. Summoning all his energy and expelling it into the crisp autumn air.

He looked down and saw his hands were translucent. 

The sound of Vince’s door slamming and Vince crying behind it. Wishing desperately that he felt something, anything, at his father’s funeral. Giving himself a chinese burn because he was going to do something worse if he didn’t rid himself of the pain building in his chest. Vince brushing him off after they’d kissed on that roof. 

He was just a voice. Screaming himself into nothing.

Being held down in the grass while an older boy ripped the front of Vince’s dress on Halloween. Vince flinching whenever his foster father spoke. Howard trying desperately to get his mother’s attention to be met with total indifference. The desperate need to be special. Just once. Just once. Never knowing what that felt like until Vince turned those blue eyes on him. Then Vince turning away from him, shaking his head, sneering. Vince sobbing. Curled in a ball on the ground in the graveyard, begging him for an answer “D’you even like me anymore?”

Then. Nothing but whistling wind where Howard once was. Out of the blue and into the black.

He was surrounded by darkness. Darkness so heavy it had a hum to it. It pressed on his eardrums. He yelled and his voice was muted by the weight of the darkness. He felt around. They weren’t joking when they called it the true black. There was something under his feet. Which was honestly quite a bit more than he’d expected. He’d thought perhaps he would just be floating in space. Or that he wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

But if he could feel the ground then he could stand up. So he did. He stuck his arms out, at least he thought he had arms, it was a bit difficult to tell, and felt around tentatively, trying to make sure he wasn’t going to smash into a wall or that he was in a box or something. Nothing in front of him. He stuck his leg, he was 73% certain he had legs, out and felt around to make sure there wasn’t some sudden drop off a cliff. No drop off.

Slowly he wandered in the darkness. He yelled for Vince but there was no answer.

He walked for hours but didn’t seem to get anywhere. There was no light. No walls. Nothing to trip over. It seemed that he should have run into something by now. He wondered briefly if maybe one of his legs really was shorter than the other and he was walking in a large circle. When Vince had mentioned the phenomena he’d been so defensive he hadn’t even taken the time to consider it. They’d been in a strange place in their friendship when they’d been whisked away by the amulet to Xooberon. He heard nastiness in everything Vince said. So even when Vince was just making normal conversation he still snapped. Pushing him away. It was really no surprise that Vince took to being the Chosen One with such vigor. If Howard wasn’t going to give him the love and attention he needed then he would find it somewhere else. If he couldn’t have a conversation with his friend he would settle for soaking in the adoration of an audience. 

The true black was an excellent conduit for introspection. Nothing to distract. Only his own thoughts for company. Not even the asshole wind that hated him to change things up. 

He kept walking. Never getting anywhere. Never getting tired. 

He moved in perfect silence. It took him a while to understand why that was so wrong. Why it scared him. He wasn’t breathing. The little sounds of breathe that had followed him from his first 10 seconds on earth ever onward had finally left him. As a ghost he’d still breathed. Out of habit. Because he wasn’t ready to let go of a fundamental element of life. Because he couldn’t figure out how not to do it. But in the true black there were no illusions. 

After that he kept up some sort of sound. Sure that if he had to listen to that silence any longer he was going to lose his mind and then he and Vince would truly be lost. He hated the idea that Vince was somewhere in here. Alone. In the dark. 

He talked. He sang. Sometimes he talked to Vince. Sometimes he talked to himself. He scatted away then told Vince to come and stop him if he hated it so much. He sang  _ Our Song Howard!  _ He sang Etta James and Billie Holiday. He made up lyrics to Vince’s music since he could only remember the basic tunes, none of the proper lyrics. Except for  _ Cars.  _ Vince insisted on playing it at soundcheck every time they had a gig. He said it was how he got into the proper mindset. To be the best frontman he could be. If there was one thing Howard Moon appreciated it was the artistic process, yes sir. He was actually a bit pleased that Vince was taking his role as co-founder of the Mighty Boosh so seriously and so he indulged the little man and acted as his personal karaoke machine. 

He told stories about the zoo and growing up in Leeds before he met Vince. He told secrets about how suspected that his parents had stopped loving him when he was six, as that was the last time he could remember them showing any type of affection toward him. Thank Brian Christ he’d met Vince 2 years later or he would have shriveled into a husk and blown away. He wouldn’t have been able to take much more. Howard had been such a gaping maw of need the first year of their friendship. And Vince had happily supplied. But after that first year he’d settled back into his default presentation, which was blowing hot and cold. One day quite sweet and complimentary. The next, nothing Vince did was good enough. Howard could sometimes feel himself doing it, tried to stop doing it, sometimes even did for a time, but then he’d find himself at it once again. It only seemed to get worse as they got older. He did his best to protect Vince from the outside world but he was often careless of Vince’s feelings himself. 

He told Vince he was sorry. And he told Vince it hurt him when Vince threw him over for people that he didn’t care about and who, Howard found this worse somehow, didn’t actually care about him either. He knew he wasn’t blameless but the truth was that in the year leading up to their deaths Vince had been a fairly shitty friend. And maybe he had been as well. He thanked Vince for trying to bring them back together even if it had resulted in their untimely demise. 

“Trust that when bad luck finally comes knocking for Vince Noir it knocks the whole job down with a wrecking ball. I never knew to be thankful for my steady dose of mild misfortune spread out over decades rather than getting slammed with the bill just the once. Though I guess I still had to pay the bill as well didn’t I?” Howard chuckled. “Forget what I said. I’d much rather have your luck.” 

He told Vince about all the times he’d wished he’d kissed him. And one time in particular.

_ “I’m entering the talent show.,” Howard announced at dinner. He was 16. Vince was 14. _

_ The announcement was met with total silence from both his parents. Vince shot him a thumbs up. “Tha’s great Howard.” _

_ Howard’s folks didn’t even pay enough attention to him to complain about the backwards haired muppet that showed up at their house every night to eat all their food. Their apathy was so complete it stretched to Vince as well. Howard wasn’t even sure they remembered Vince’s name despite the fact that he had come to their house virtually every day for the last seven years. _

_ The silence stretched as Howard’s parents chewed their food. _

_ “What song ya gonna do?” Vince asked. _

_ “Thought I might hit em with some Weather Report. Chicka chicka.” _

_ Vince wrinkled his nose at that, but then rearranged his features into a more encouraging configuration.  _

_ “Tha’s well excitin’. Ain’t that cool Mr. Moon?” _

_ Mr. Moon silently scooped more mashed potatoes onto his plate.  _

_ Vince shot a cheeky grin at Howard. “I fink it’s pretty fuckin’ cool.”  _

_ Neither of Howard’s parents blinked at Vince’s language.  _

_ For the first few years Vince had tried to be on his very best behavior whenever he visited Howard. Howard’s house was his haven and he didn’t want to muck it up by havin’ Howard’s parents dislike him and not let him come round anymore, but over the years he’d seen how little they cared. In a way it was a relief. That there was virtually nothing he could do to make them look up from their box scores or needlepoint of whatever the bleedin’ hell it was stuffy northerners did instead of payin’ attention to their brilliant sons but it also made him angry. Howard deserved people who saw how genius he was. Even if his taste in music was a bit rubbish.  _

_ So Vince had invented a game to see what exactly he could get past Howard’s parents. Curse words were easy. Basic level one stuff. Even Howard would join in.  _

_ When Vince was feeling especially cheeky he would sometimes describe lurid sex acts to Mrs. Moon as casually as telling her about a book report. This made Howard blush harder than a whore in church and was a source of great amusement for Vince. He would extoll outlandish political opinions to Howard’s dad and talk about how Howard was turning into a young delinquent. Talking about knocked over bins. Robbed banks. And bummed sheep. That last had gotten him a slap to the side of the head from Howard that Howard’s parents also failed to notice.  _

_ Vince thought for sure Howard’s parents couldn’t be all bad. They never hit him. Which was quite an improvement over his own home situation. So that certainly meant they loved Howard. They were just bad at showing it. Just needed a nudge in the right direction. It wasn’t until later he saw how wrong he’d been about that. How painful neglect could be. Even if there was no physical abuse.  _

_ It had been Vince’s idea to tell Howard’s parents about the talent show. His optimism often overpowered his common sense. Which Howard generally found endearing. The problem was that Vince’s optimism was infectious and when it infected Howard it always led to disappointment. _

_ And so the day of the talent show rolled around. He hadn’t really expected his parents to show, but he’d allowed himself to hope and he blamed Vince for the aching disappointment in his chest that they hadn’t.  _

_ His slot was between a girl group lip syncing to a Carly Simon song and a boy doing tricks with a football.  _

_ Next to Vince were two empty seats, Vince had hand decorated signs to reserve the seats for Mr. and Mrs. Moon. He could see now how absolutely stupid he’d been when the show started and they hadn’t arrived. In retrospect he should not have sat in the front row, where the empty seats were painfully obvious. He felt terrible. He was so thick at times. So bad at discerning people’s true character. He always had been. Really the only person he’d even been right about was Howard.  _

_ He had to make it up to him somehow. Do something special. He knew Howard’s act wasn’t until the second half of the show, so he’d snuck out of the auditorium and come back with a rough clump of wildflowers, Howard with his dour realism would call them weeds. People gave people flowers after a performance right? He was sure he’d seen that somewhere. He’d give Howard the flowers and tell him how he felt. Then it wouldn’t matter that Howard’s parents were absolute shit. They could love each other and it would all be okay.  _

_ Howard climbed onstage. He strummed experimentally with his guitar and was rewarded with a searing peal of feedback. _

_ “Yeah Howard!” Vince screamed from the audience.  _

_ Howard cleared his throat. It sounded so loud in the deathly silence of what had up until this point been a bustling lively auditorium. Then he hesitantly started to play. _

_ Then he slipped into a jazz trance. He played father and faster with his eyes squeezed shut.  _

_ Soon Vince forgot how mad he was at himself. It was rare he got to stare at Howard for so long. Anytime Howard caught him staring he generally gave him a sour look and told him to point his bushbaby eyes in some other direction. But he could watch Howard all he wanted right now.  _

_ Howard’s fingers danced across the frets. So quick. So sure. Vince wasn’t 100% sure what Weather Report was supposed to sound like but he was 100% sure that Howard was deeply sexy when he played guitar and was therefore 100% nailing it.  _

_ Howard was chasing the train. He was the one. He was the jazzy boy!  _

_ The song ended and Howard looked out over the crowd, grinning his lupine grin that Vince never got to see enough of.  _

_ Absolute silence. Not even a courtesy clap from the teachers.  _

_ Unacceptable.  _

_ Vince stood up. Clapping. Shouting. Screaming like the teen girl he was often mistaken for. _

_ “Woooooo! Yeah Howard! Nice one!”  _

_ Still no one else clapped.  _

_ The grin dropped off Howard’s face. He saw Vince in the front row, jumping up and down like a lunatic.  _

_ Vince kept clapping. Always trying to make up for the world’s awfulness all on his own.  _

_ Somehow having Vince being the only one cheering made the whole thing even more embarrassing. They already got enough flack, Moon and his ugly girlfriend, without Vince feeding into it.  _

_ Finally Howard left the stage.  _

_ Vince shot to his feet. He could tell things were already going dark in Howard’s mind tank. He had to cut off the line of thought at the pass. Because Howard’s thoughts had claws. _

_ He ran around to the backstage door, the clump of flowers still clutched in his hand, looking more ragged by the minute. He found Howard stuffing his guitar back into its case. He was sniffling and kept aggressively wiping at his eyes.  _

_ “Howard.” _

_ Howard ignored him. He snapped the enclosures on his guitar case picked it up and blew straight past Vince.  _

_ Howard ignored Vince as he walked out of the school. Vince trailed after him. Carrying a bunch of weeds for some unknown idiot reason. He didn’t care. He just wanted to go home. Just wanted the humiliation to be over, but he had a horrible feeling that for Howard Moon the humiliation was just beginning.  _

He now wished he’d kissed Vince instead of blowing past him. It was only later he realized that those weeds were a bouquet for him and he felt like such a tit. He was only able to appreciate Vince in retrospect. Never in the moment. 

“We really are quite the pair aren’t we?” Howard said. “But I think we can be better. We were on our way to better.”

Howard nodded. “Yes, sir. Well on our way.”

It was hard to tell how long he’d been walking. His legs didn’t get tired. He couldn’t tell how far he’d gone or how far he had to go. He could almost rejigger the lyrics to _ Ice Flow  _ to fit this new situation. The blackness was far more fearsome. He thought he’d understood endlessness in the Arctic. It did not compare to the endlessness of the black. To pass the time he started to compose a poem dedicated to the black. A worthy subject for any artist, he could recite it to Vince when he found him. Vince would never admit it, but Howard knew he actually liked it when he recited his poetry. 

_ Darkness. Dark like black cream. _

_ A neverending womb of black cream. _

_ I’m going to scream if I don’t escape this black cream. _

Yep. He still had it. 

Surely he had to be getting close to-

Howard smacked into a wall.

At first Howard was a bit put out. What kind of berk just put a wall in the middle of the bloody walkway with no indication of- 

Then he got a bit of a grip on himself. Progress! The black had an end. Or a side. Or...something. And he’d reached it! He trailed his hand along the wall. Trying to find any hint as to a way out of the black.

He had to walk another couple hours, always keeping one of his hands touching the wall as he walked. He moved with renewed vigor. He could do this. The wall proved it. 

His fingers dipped as they passed over a seam in the wall. Howard ran both hands all over the wall. There was definitely a seam. He felt around some more. A handle. A door handle! He’d found the door! 

As Howard touched the doorhandle an ancient exit sign blinkered to life above the door. Its ghostly green light casting a small circle of reality into the dark. 

Howard pulled the handle and the door swung open easily. Howard stepped through the door into the light. 


	7. Chapter 7

Howard collapsed to his hands and knees on the other side of the door. After being in the dark for hours he could barely squint in the light. He kissed the ground several times. Thanking Brian Christ or whoever else might be listening that he’d escaped that not quite so eternal darkness. 

When he finally opened his eyes he saw cracked linoleum. He smelled burnt coffee and cigarettes.

“What you doin’ on the floor you peanut?” A rough cockney voice asked him. 

Howard straightened up, sitting back on his haunches. Noting for the first time where he was. Limbo.

“Wait a second, the cockney voice said, “I recognize you don’ I? You’re that geezer we ‘ad in ‘ere a few years back. ‘Sposed to go ta monkey hell.”

The voice belonged to a skeletal fellow in a black hood.

“Phil?” Howard asked. 

“Got it in one squire,” Phil said. “Surprised ya remember, most people don’ bother to learn my name.”

Phil helped Howard to his feet and hustled him out of the room back into the main room of the head office. Howard didn’t notice that Phil seemed a bit anxious to get him out of the room he’d stumbled into after getting out of the true black. He didn’t give Howard much time to look around. 

“Well. You made quite an impression,” Howard said.

“So you’s properly dead this time?”

“I am.”

“And what ya doin ‘ere?”

“I’m here to find my mate. Vince.”

“What, your ugly girlfriend? She dead as well?”

“Yes. And I really need to-”

Phil turned away from Howard and plunked coins into a cigarette vending machine. “They keep raisin’ the prices on ‘is thing. Who’s got eight euros in coin I ask ya?”

“Yeah, Phil?”

“What?” 

“Could you perhaps focus for a moment?”

“Oh. Well excuse the life outta me,” Phil said, grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the tray at the bottom of the machine, “Didn’t realize you was so bleedin’ important.” He ripped open the pack of cigarettes and stuck one in a hole he’d cut in the face covering of his hood. Then crossed his boney arms. “By all means. Go right ahead. Don’ got anythin’ on.”

“Right. He disappeared into the true black. I followed him. I need to find him and bring him back to my plane.”

“Look at you. Talkin’ ‘bout planes and the like. Come a far sight from a geezer who’d never even heard ‘a monkey hell.”

“Could you point me in the right direction?” 

“No.”

“What? No? Just no?” 

Phil shrugged and smoke his cigarette. “You already caused me enough trouble las’ time you was ‘ere. I gave ya that hauntin’ then drove your girlfriend ta come rescue ya. Colin was furious. ‘E docked my pay. My Pauline was furious. Got on the dog to his Pauline, runnin up my phone bill, and they had a right row that made everythin’ even worse, all a bloody nightmare cause some plum was dressed up like a dyin’ ape.”

“No a’ that’s my fault,” Howard said. “Maybe if you bothered to talk to someone before you kill them you might avoid those types of mixups. There should be a procedure. Standard practices. To ensure you’re taking the right soul. As I recall I wasn’t your first foul up. Just the latest.”

Phil hunched over, slightly chastened. 

“You lot need to get organized. If last time is any indication you’re short staffed, and you’ve got no system by which to allocate jobs, and your paperwork was a total mess.”

“Oh like you’re bleedin’ perfect are ya?”

“Not even close, Howard said, “But I am very good at organizing. Let me have a go at getting things in order here. Then you can give me some information about how to find Vince.”

Phil shrugged one shoulder. “Fine. Why not?”

Howard stuck out his hand. “I’ll need file folders, sticky tabs, and at least six different colors of biro.”

Howard couldn’t see Phil’s face but he thought he detected a glow of admiration.

He pretended not to hear Phil mutter “What a plonker” as he went off to find Howard’s office supplies. 

Generally for a heavy organization project like this he would have liked to have had the full force of stationary village behind him, but he would make due with whatever they had in limbo. Phil returned with half a box of folders, three biros, and a nearly depleted roll of masking tape. He could make it work.

Phil must have cleared the arrangement with Colin the dispatcher because Colin barely looked up from his newspaper as Howard bustled about organizing the back office. He got all of the files labeled and organized, he adjusted the route schedule to make it easier on the drivers, and he typed up a pre-kill checklist on an ancient computer hooked up to a dot matrix printer. 

Phil was smoking another cigarette when Howard presented the checklist to him.

“Careful, those will kill ya,” Howard said, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Phil snorted and Howard thought he could see a smile shift behind the black face covering built into the hood. 

After reading Howard’s checklist, Phil actually let out a huff of approval. “This ain’ ‘alf bad squire. Oughta cut down on our wrongful death suits by quite a lot. Cheers mate.”

“Now you’ll tell me where to find Vince?” 

Phil chuckled. “Oh. Absolutely not.”

He and the rest of the skeletons laughed. Phil’s laugh turned into a hacking cough. 

“What? We had an agreement?” Howard said, hating how whiny he sounded. 

“Well, I didn’ ‘pect ya to actually do anythin’ useful did I? How was I ta know you’d actually do wot ya said. I can’ tell ya where e’ is. Against protocol.”

“Sod your protocol. Tell me where Vince is. Now.”

Phil shrugged and said nothing. 

Howard shoved past him and stalked around the room, past the slot machines, past the vending machines and the coffee machine with its stench of scorched grounds. He glared at one of the skeletons who tried to trip him as he walked past. 

He whipped past the ribbony curtain that led into the room he’d first entered when he left the true black. The room seemed just as small and dank as the one he’d left. With the heinous wooden panelling and the uneven linoleum. 

He hadn’t had much of a chance to look around before. Howard walked toward the back wall of the room, but it never got any closer. It just remained about three meters away. Howard took a run at it, but it still didn’t get any closer. Howard looked at the other two walls. They had several doors inset in them. With signs above them. Each of the signs had a name. Every few moments the signs above the doors chittered away like a sign at the airport then stopped, displaying a new name. 

Phil stepped through the curtain into the room. “You shouldn’ really be in here. Fact, you shouldn’ be in limbo at all.”

“He’s here. Isn’t he? Behind one of these doors?”

Howard knew he’d figured it out. Each door led to another person’s true black. He’d exited his own. These doors led to the others. Poor Pickins had only been able to wander around in his own, but Howard had managed to find his way out of his. 

“No,” Phil said lamely.

“How do I find his door?”

“That ain’t ‘ow it works.”

“Oh please Phil. Please explain to me how it works,” Howard said. “You’ve been tremendously helpful so far.”

“Cut the attitude or I’ll grass you up squire,” Phil said. “Look. Jus’ give it up.”

“No.” 

“You won’ find ‘im.”

“We always find each other.”

“It’s impossible.”

“It was supposed to be impossible to find my way out of the true black and I managed that. It was supposed to be impossible to escape monkey hell and I did that. It was supposed to be impossible to scale Mrs. Gideon’s tree with a full telescope and I did that.”

“What was that last bit?”

“Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. The point is. Howard Moon does the impossible every day.”

Phil groaned.

The groan got even louder when Howard started to sing.

_ I know I've dreamed you a sin and a lie _

Phil facepalmed. “Now yer jus’ embarassin’ yaself mate.” 

Howard ignored him. He knew this was what he needed to do. It brought Vince back to him the first time. It would work again. It was  _ Our Song Howard!  _ Its power was unstoppable.

_ I have my freedom but I don't have much time _

A few of Phil’s buddies walked into the room. They sniggered and nudged each other.

“Get a load a this geezer.”

“Thought it was a cat dyin’.”

Howard ignored them. Ignored the red blooming on his cheeks that should have been impossible. He wasn’t going to be embarrassed. Not anymore. 

_ Faith has been broken tears must be cried _

If he got Vince he was going to show him every night for the rest of their unlives that he loved him. That he wanted to be with him. That he didn’t care what anyone else thought. 

_ Let's do some living after we die _

He needed Vince. His biggest fan. The funniest, strangest, most special person he had ever met. The person who had brought sparkle to the drab life of Howard Moon. The person who gave Howard purpose. The person Howard wanted to take care of and protect and love in a million different ways. 

_ Wild horses couldn't drag me away _

_ Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day _

_ Wild horses couldn't drag me away _

_ Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day _

After he finished the song, all was quiet except for the sniggering of the skeleton contingent.

“Right. You ‘ad yer chance squire, time ta pack it in,” Phil said. “Considerin’ ya did such a good job getting everythin’ organized. I’ll give ya a choice. You wanna go back ta the graveyard or back to the black?”

That couldn’t be it.  _ That couldn’t be it. _ Not after all this. Not after all they’d been through. This was his last shot. He couldn’t have blown it could he? Things never went right for Howard Moon. But they always went right for Vince Noir. Surely Vince’s good luck would edge out Howard’s bad? 

Phil put a bony hand on Howard’s shoulder. Howard did his best not to shudder away. “Come on. This has taken up enough time. I’sposed ta clock out ten minutes ago. Le’s go-”

Faint whistling. 

Howard froze. Was he imagining it? Wishful thinking? 

Phil nudged him. “Keep it movin’.”

Howard refused to move. Then he heard it again. 

Whistling.  _ Our Song Howard! _

Howard looked up at the signs above the doors. Third one on the right. The sign read Vince Noir.

Howard lunged forward, out of Phil’s grasp, toward the door. Before Phil could protest Howard wrenched the door open and dove through it. 

It wasn’t black. Not like Howard’s room at all. 

Howard remembered how Pickins had said things were different for those that went to the black voluntarily. And those that went because they had to. He now realized the true black might have been a bit of a misnomer. That Pickins had come on purpose same as Howard and apparently the black was only reserved for those hapless fools of love who blundered in on purpose.

Vince’s room looked an awful lot like the Velvet Onion. There was a silent crowd standing in front of the stage. 

Vince knelt on the stage. He wore his mirrorball suit but it was splattered in paint. At his feet were hundreds of sheets of paper. Vince’s face was blank. There were dips where his eyes and mouth should have been, but it was all blank skin. He furiously scribbled and painted on a sheet of paper. He stood up with his face turned away from the crowd. Then he turned around and he was wearing the paper mask he’d just drawn. Done in his idiosyncratic style. The paper mask had a huge smile.

The crowd murmured derisively. 

Vince snatched the paper mask off his face and knelt down to draw another. After a few minutes he stood with his back turned once again making a grand reveal of his new mask. This time fat purple tears dripped from oversized eyes.

Dead silence from the crowd. The only sound in the venue was the hollow clomping of Vince’s boots as he shuffled about the stage.

Vince ripped the mask off and knelt down again. Painting a new mask.

Howard pushed his way toward the stage. Nudging people out of the way. 

Vince displayed a new mask. This one had a cruel sneer.

The crowd cheered. Vince stumbled backwards. He jumped up and down a bit, the minute hops Howard recognized from when he was excited. Then Vince stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to see someone at the back of the room. Howard looked back as well, trying to catch sight of who Vince was looking for. 

It was Howard. Well another Howard. And he had his back turned. Standing with his nose in the corner like a naughty schoolboy. When Vince saw that this other Howard wasn’t going to turn around he crumpled up the paper mask and threw it on the ground. The crowd’s cheering abruptly cut off. 

Vince knelt down to make another mask. 

Howard reached the front of the stage. 

“Vince,” he said softly.

This close he could hear little muffled sounds of frustration coming from Vince’s non mouth.

Vince stood up with his new mask. In this one his eyes were a normal size, his teeth were straight and his nose wasn’t broken. The crowd clapped. The other Howard did not turn around.

Vince stamped his foot then knelt down to make another mask. 

Howard climbed onto the stage. He’d half expected the crowd to stop him. Drag him back. But they didn’t. No one stopped him.

Vince put on his new mask. In this one he looked very masculine. His hair was short and swept back like he was an accounts manager at Rumbelows. He had a serious furrowed brow and no sparkle in his eyes. The crowd was silent. The Howard in the back did not turn around. The real Howard, the one onstage, knelt in front of Vince as Vince crouched to work on a new mask. 

“Vince? Can you hear me?”

Vince ignored him. Gripping a paintbrush he rapidly roughed out the shape of a face, then set to work adding details. Full lips. Long eyelashes. Rosy cheeks. Vince as a woman.

“I came for you Vince. I followed you here. I want to bring you home.”

Vince stood with his new feminine mask. 

The crowd ooh’ed. The Howard at the back did not turn around.

Vince made a choked sound and Howard knew if Vince had eyes he’d be crying.

Howard grabbed Vince before he could grab another blank sheet of paper. He was pleased to find he could grab Vince. He’d been worried he’d phase right through, same as always. 

Vince fought against him. Shaking his head. His hair whipping back and forth. Trying to wrench himself from Howard’s grip. 

“It’s me. It’s your Howard.”

Vince wiggled out of Howard’s clutches. He crouched down and started work on his next mask.

Howard whistled a bit of  _ Our Song Howard!  _ But it seemed that letting Howard know which door to go through had been sapped the last of Vince’s strength to resist the pull of this place because Vince did not respond. 

Howard didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to get Vince to stop. 

Xxx

He never knew what he wanted. He was so hard to read. Sometimes he thought he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. Howard loved him. This he knew. But then other times he wasn’t sure if Howard even liked him. Even enjoyed spending time with him or if he was tired of being followed around by an idiot with backwards hair. Didn’t know if he wished he was more like Howard. Or less like Howard since Howard seemed to hate himself so much. Didn’t know if he wanted a boy or a girl and if it bothered him that Vince was mostly neither but a little bit of both. 

What would make him happy? When would he know for sure? He had to keep trying. He couldn’t give up.

Xxx

Vince went through mask after mask. Always looking for the approval of the impossible Howard in the corner. 

“Vince. You don’t have to do this. I love you. I always have. I always will.”

Vince drew another mask. This one with his old Bride of Dracula makeup. But also with a black eye. 

“You can’t scare me off. You never could. Not forever.”

Vince tore off that mask and drew another. In this one he looked as he had when he’d thrown Howard over. Throwing him under the bus for the whole Crack Fox incident. A question and a test.

“I came back then, didn’t I?”

Vince drew another mask. Roughing in the edges of the collar and Howard knew it was a picture of his look the night Howard had left for Denmark. The suit. The causal indifference. Above the collar was a gigantic bulbous balloonhead.

“Came back then as well.”

With shaking hands Vince put on a new paper mask. In this one his face was zombified. Black holes where his eyes should be. Green skin dripping off, revealing glowing bone below.

He jabbed his fingers at the mask. Surely he couldn’t love this face as well?

The crowd gasped in horror at the latest mask.

Howard whirled around. “Shut it! The lot of you!” He bellowed. 

Howard hauled Vince to his feet.

“I love you. I always will love you. No matter what you do. What you look like. Always. For eternity. I want to spend eternity with you Vince. You’re my best mate. You’re the love of my life. I’ve loved you every second I’ve known you. When it would have been easier not to. When you were drivin’ me insane. When you hurt me and when you saved me. I love you. I can’t be without you Vince. I love you.”

Howard pressed his lips to the lips of Vince’s paper zombie mask. 

At first Vince kept his arms at his sides. Not reacting to Howard’s kiss. But then he raised his arms and wrapped them around Howard’s neck. 

Howard realized he wasn’t kissing a paper mask anymore. Vince was kissing him back. The real Vince. No paper masks. No corpse-like visage. His Vince. 

He cupped his hands under Vince’s chin, pulling Vince ever deeper into the kiss. Vince kept jumping a bit frustrated that he wasn’t the same height as Howard. He stood on his tiptoes. Wanting more and more and more. Finally Howard, tired of being bopped on the nose every so often by Vince’s forehead picked Vince up and kissed him, so Vince’s feet hung a couple inches off the ground. Vince smiled the most brilliant smile and pressed his lips to Howard’s. His eyes were closed so he only caught the corner. He always got too excited and forgot to aim. He was going to have a lot of practice. 

Finally Howard set Vince down. Vince grinned up at him. “Alright?” He asked.

“I am now little man. I am now.”

Xxx

Howard came for him. Howard loved him! He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy in his entire life. Or unlife. 

The crowd. His audience. Grumbled at the kiss. Vince shot them the ol’ two finger salute and Howard laughed. 

Howard jumped off the stage then helped Vince down.

“Let’s get out of here yeah?” Howard said.

Vince nodded. Howard led him toward the back door. The Howard in the corner finally turned around. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Piss off,” the real Howard said, then pulled Vince through the back door and back into limbo.

Vince remembered this place. He’d been here briefly during his mission to rescue Howard. 

A skeleton stood in front of them. Arms crossed. Angrily tapping his foot.

“It just never ends wit’ you to does it?” The skeleton demanded in a thick cockney accent.

“Maybe the universe will finally figure out Howard Moon and Vince Noir should never be separated,” Howard said.

“‘N what am I ‘sposed ta do with ya now?” The skeleton asked.

“Send us back to the graveyard,” Howard said, “you know what would happen if you tried to send us to the black.”

“Probably end up burnin’ the whole joint down or some’in similar.”

Vince didn’t know how the skeleton managed to look so put upon when his face wasn’t visible under the black covering. Good bone structure he supposed. 

“Alright ya peanuts. Group up an’ I’ll send ya back.”

Vince and Howard grouped together. 

“Now ya need to loosen up a bit for the journey. Dance a bit. Really feel yaself.”

Vince started to move. Relishing being himself properly. Howard glared at the skeleton. 

“You’ve pulled that before. I’ll not fall for it again.”

“Had ta try didn’ I? Get your jollies where ya can in this gig.”

“I’ve had just about enough of your jollies and I think you should-”

Phil waved his hand and Vince and Howard disappeared.

Phil sighed. “Bloody ‘ell. I need a drink.” 

Xxx

“-show a bit more respect for the dead,” Howard finished his sentence before he noticed that he was back in the graveyard. He was shaken from his annoyance by the realization that he’d done it. He’d rescued Vince and brought him back. Just as he said he would. 

Vince threw his arms around Howard. And to Howard’s surprise he was able to. He didn’t pass through as he always had before. And when Howard looked down he saw that Vince looked completely himself. More himself than he had ever looked in fact. He was glowing.

Vince made this connection at the same moment he did. 

“We can-” They both started to say at the same time but then both decided that there was a better way to celebrate than talking about it and kissed instead. 

Vince trailed a line of kisses and I love you’s down Howard’s neck. Howard ran his fingers through Vince’s hair. Savoring the feeling of the soft silky strands between his finger tips. 

The next night was Halloween. At first Howard was a bit nervous, thinking perhaps they should stay in the graveyard. Terrified Vince was going to wear himself out and disappear again.

“No way. I feel amazin’ Howard. Honest. Never felt better,” Vince said. And he was telling the truth. Not only could he touch Howard he found he also had little trouble interacting with physical objects. Whatever had happened between them in limbo or the true black or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, it had given them both more strength than they’d had even in the few days right after they died. 

“Maybe we should wait until next year.”

“I’m tellin’ you Howard. You fixed me. Check this out!” Vince spun in place and then he was wearing a purple jumpsuit. “I can even change clothes! Idn’t that genius.”

Xxx

Oh dear. A wardrobe only limited by Vince’s imagination. He was going to be absolutely insufferable. 

“I bet you can do it too. Give it a try.”

Howard concentrated. 

Vince stumbled away as if he’d been blinded. “Ugh! You’re naked!”

Howard looked down at himself, panicking. He wore the same plaintive oak blazer he’d been buried in.

He glared at Vince. Vince covered his mouth to smother his giggles.

“You little tart.” 

“Sorry. Couldn't resist. Go on. Give it another go.” 

Howard concentrated and looked down. He wore an orange hawaiian shirt with an olive roll neck and instantly felt much more himself.

Vince shrieked “My eyes! My eyes!”

Howard smiled a bit pleased with himself. “Yes. You’re a comedic genius. Are you finished?”

“For now.” 

“Well I can see you are definitely feeling better. Fine. We’ll go.”

Vince leapt into the air and hovered several feet off the ground. “Brilliant!”

He gently floated back down to earth. “And now that we can both change we can dress up.”

Howard shook his head. “I thought we were going as ghosts.”

“We can’t go as ghosts Howard,” Vince said as if this was completely obvious. “We are ghosts.”

“My mistake.”

“And we gotta do a couple’s costume.”

“I suppose you already have a few ideas about that don’t you?” Howard said drily.

“You bet your sweet jack-o-lantern arse I do.” Then Vince grabbed the sweet jack-o-lantern arse in question.

“Hands off sir,” Howard said, smiling in spite of himself.

“I’m not touching you,” Vince said, squeezing Howard’s arse some more.

“I think you’ll find you are sir.”

Vince reached up and kissed Howard. “I’m not touching you,” he murmured into Howard’s neck.

“Your statements lack both conviction and validity.”

Howard opened his mouth to babble further but he quickly became distracted by Vince’s mouth and he fell silent. 

Xxx

It was Halloween! It was Halloween and he had the most brilliant costume ever and the most brilliant man by his side. Vince hadn’t known it was possible to be this happy. 

He’d sent Howard away to the other side of the graveyard with strict instructions for his costume. 

“Alright Mr. Bossy Boots,” Howard said as Vince shoved him toward Pickins’ grave. “Ah! I’m goin’!” He said after a particularly hard shove. “Honestly. You’re insufferable on Halloween. You can instantly manifest any look you want, why do you need time to get ready?”

“I got ta’ make an entrance.”

“But I already know what you’re going to be.”

“That ain’t the point! You don’t know the details. The nuances.”

“You wouldn’t know a nuance if it kicked you in the face,” Howard said, but he was smiling and finally he disappeared to the other side of the graveyard so Vince could “get ready.” 

The truth was he couldn’t concentrate with Howard around. All he wanted to do was kiss him, but he needed to be able to focus on his costume. It had to be perfect. Once he manifested it, it was easy to maintain but manifesting it was actually quite hard and Vince didn’t have the brain cells to spare. Not when his one good one was absolutely besotted.

Xxx

Howard manifested his costume in short order. It was quite basic. He didn’t need anything fancy. Everyone was going to be looking at Vince anyway. While he waited for Vince to make his entrance, he spoke with Pickins. 

Pickins was of course very interested in how Howard had managed to pull his love back to this plane. Howard told him everything he could think of. Everything he thought might help Pickins find his own lost love. He figured Phil in limbo could do with a bit more trouble and Pickins was just the ghost to give it to him. 

He and Pickins were deep in conversation when he heard some obnoxious throat clearing from behind a crypt at the center of the graveyard. Howard rolled his eyes fondly.

“I do believe that is my cue Mr. Pickins. Hope you have a happy Halloween.” 

Howard went to stand in his designated space where Vince had told him to stand when he gave “the signal.”

“Are you in place?” Vince called from behind the crypt.

“Yes.”

It was well worth the wait. 

Vince looked simply stunning. He wore a white wedding dress artfully stained with blood. Droplets of blood looked like seed pearls. The white lace faded seamlessly to black at the hem of the dress and where the sleeves hooked elegantly over Vince’s fingers. The veil stood out starkly from Vince’s hair. He was absolutely perfect. The Bride of Dracula. 

Xxx

Howard looked well handsome as Dracula. So tall and imposing. His cape flapped in a nonexistent breeze. His dark curls twisted into a widow’s peak.

Vince twirled then smiled at Howard. A bit nervous. “What you think?” 

“I. Well. That is to say-”

Vince’s nervous face broke into a sunny grin. “Thanks Howard. You always know just what to say.”

Howard stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Shall we?”

Vince stared at Howard’s outstretched hand for a moment then took it. He ducked his chin into his shoulder to hide his smile. He was still getting used to Howard initiating contact. It was like having a crush on him all over again. Everything was bubbly and giddy and new. 

Xxx

Howard and Vince walked out of the cemetery. When they were children Howard had thought it irresponsible to leave the graveyard gates open on Halloween, certain it was going to invite vandalism and shenanigans but now he knew that it was a gesture from the living to the ghosts in the graveyard. Welcoming them into the world for the night.

He and Vince wandered the old familiar streets. Vince exclaimed over nearly every child’s costume. Telling Howard why each one was genius in its own special way. Not once did Howard let go of Vince’s hand. 

A few houses away Howard saw two children that gave him such a sense of  _ deja vu  _ it nearly bowled him over. There was a tall gangly boy dressed as a knight in cardboard armor. Trotting along beside this tall boy was a smaller boy in a princess costume, chatting the knight’s ear off.

Howard poked Vince in the side.

“Ow what?” Vince said.

Howard pointed at the pair. 

Vince laid his head on Howard’s shoulder. “Were we really ever that little?”

“Even littler I think.”

“Wow.” 

They watched as the boy in the princess costume danced circles around the knight. Then his shoe came untied and he tripped and fell over. The knight carefully tied his shoe. Gruffly telling him to sit still so he could double knot it. Then he helped the princess to his feet. The princess threw his arms around the knight and eventually the knight stiffly hugged him back.

Howard heard Vince sniffling and could feel his own eyes going a bit dewy.

Vince squeezed Howard’s hand. “I sort of love them. Is that stupid?” 

“Not at all little man. Not at all.” 

Xxx

They wandered for hours, admiring kids’ costumes and taking in the decorations. Vince loved Halloween decorations so much. Loved the idea that something could be beautiful and creepy at the same time. It was why he admired goths so much. But he liked variety too much to stick with the look all the time. 

The streets were clearing out. The festivities winding down. When they heard shouting. And crying.

Some big boys were circling the princess and the knight. 

One of them shoved the princess. “Nice dress,” he sneered. 

Howard and Vince didn’t even have to look at each other. They didn’t say anything. They just disappeared.

Then they reappeared in front of the bullies. Both of them had dropped their human faces and instead each displayed a zombie visage. Vince snarled at the boy who’d been picking on the princess. “Get outta here or I’ll do ya up good and proper.”

Howard glowered at the other boy. “I’d do as he says. It won’t do to upset the spirits on all hallow’s eve.” 

The bullies stared into Howard and Vince’s terrifying faces, screamed, and ran off.

Howard and Vince turned to face the princess and the knight, with their human faces back in place.

“You alright?” Vince asked.

The princess nodded. “You really a ghost?” He asked.

Vince smiled. “Yeah. But a nice one. ‘Cept to wankers like that.”

The princess nodded solemnly at this then broke into a grin. “Genius.” 

The knight eyed Howard with suspicion. “You two aren’t perverts or something are you? I’ve been charged with protecting Louie here, as he’s a delicate flower-”

“Am not!” The princess, Louie, said and crossed his arms grumpily.

“And that moustache-” the knight pointed at Howard’s moustache with a cardboard sword”-is definitely suspect.”

Vince cackled at that.

Howard frowned. “I can assure you we are not perverts. And I’ll have you know this moustache is extremely respectable and…”

Vince tuned out the rest of what he was very sure was an absolutely fascinating lecture on moustaches through the ages that any ten year old would be thrilled to be a part of. He instead turned to the princess. He knew a burgeoning confuser when he saw one.

“I like your dress,” Vince said.

“Thanks! I like yours too.” Louie said.

“Thanks. Made it myself.”

“No way! Really?”

“It’s a little easier for ghosts.”

“My mum made mine.” Louie twirled around, making the skirt flare out. 

“She sounds like a good mum.”

“Yeah.” 

“You and-” Vince gestured to the knight.

“Clive.” Louie supplied.

“Are you and Clive gonna be alright?” Vince asked.

“Yeah. Fink so. Clive’s really tough. He’s basically the toughest guy I know. Smartest too. He knows all the countries and capitals. We ain’t even learned it in school. He just did it cause he’s so smart.” Louis said, his eyes shining, taking relish in bragging about his friend. “Also also he knows all kinds of swear words in chinese and spanish and and and demarkian-”

“Danish,” Clive said, who had apparently been listening to their conversation in addition to Howard’s lecture.

“Right. Danish. He’s so smart. And so cool.”

“Yeah. My mate Howard is pretty smart and cool as well.”

Louie eyed Howard a little doubtfully. “Really?”

“Yeah. He knows how to play all sorts of musical instruments. Even well weird ones like bassoon and sitar.”

Louie nodded. “That is pretty good.”

“And I’ll tell ya another secret. He’s a really good kisser.”

“Really?” Louie asked. His eyes kept darting to Clive.

“Oh yes.”

“Sometimes I want to kiss Clive,” Louie said, his large green eyes very serious.

“Do you think Clive wants to kiss you?”

Louie shrugged. “Dunno.”

Xxx

Sometimes Howard really missed his slide projector. It made lecturing so much easier. He knew he was hitting the major salient points of his mustache through the ages lecture but he couldn’t quite remember the dates. So he wrapped the whole thing up rather more quickly than he would have liked. 

Clive kept darting glances over toward Vince and Louie happily chatting.

“I promise Vince won’t hurt him. Inundate him with fashion tips perhaps. But he won’t hurt him.” 

Clive stared deep into Howard’s eyes. The gaze made Howard uncomfortable but he didn’t shift away. Acting shifty would do nothing to put this kid at ease. 

“So you’re a ghost? Like a proper ghost?”

“I am indeed.”

“How’d you die?”

“Oh. Well. We were searching for treasure and got killed by a boobie trap.”

“That’s actually pretty cool,” Clive said, finally starting to warm up a bit.

Howard smiled. He’d always thought the way he and Vince had died was exceptionally stupid, but perhaps not. 

“Yes well. We often found ourselves in dangerous situations, Howard said. “Fighting mermen and aliens and monsters and the like.”

“I’m gonna fight monsters,” the kid said. “Clive Kimber, man of action.”

Howard nodded. “I’ve no doubt.”

“And Louie will come with me of course.”

“Of course.” 

“People like him better than they like me,” Clive said abruptly.

Howard knew that feeling. How much it could hurt to not be well liked. But there was one bright spot. 

“But he likes you best.”

Clive cocked his head. Turning this idea over in his mindtank. As if it had never really occurred to him that way before. “Yeah. I guess he does.”

“You take good care of him yeah? Friends like that…”

Howard watched as Vince spun around and his dress changed from white to black and back again.

“They don’t come around every day. And sometimes the world likes to hurt beautiful things.”

Clive nodded solemnly.

Howard stuck out his hand and Clive shook it. 

“I’m Howard. Howard Moon.”

“Clive,” but I suppose you already picked up on that.”

“Yes sir.” 

“C’mon Louie, we better head back,” Clive said. 

“Awwwwww,” Louie groaned, “Do we have to?”

“I thought you wanted to watch Beetlejuice?”

“Oh! Right.” Louie turned to Vince, his brow furrowed. Very serious. “We probly better be goin’.” 

Vince nodded. “Sounds like.”

Louie threw his arms around Vince’s neck. “Nice meetin’ ya-uh”

“Vince.” Vince hugged Louie back. 

“Nice meetin’ ya Vince.” 

“Nice meetin’ you too Louie.”

Howard and Vince watched as Louie and Clive walked down the street. When they reached a street crossing Louie reached up and grabbed Clive’s hand. They crossed the street, then turned and disappeared from view. 

Howard held out his hand. Vince took it. And they walked back to the graveyard. Back to eternity. Together. 

**Epilogue:**

Dracula and his Bride became Halloween fixtures in the neighborhood. Every year Dracula and his beautiful bride would wander the streets admiring costumes and scaring bullies. 

That first Halloween was not the last time Vince and Howard ran into Clive and Louie.

Clive was 16. Louie was 15. When Howard and Vince came across Louie sitting on a park bench by himself. Crying. He wore a black slip dress and cat ears. He was taller, with long coltish limbs. He’d dyed his hair blonde. But Vince would have recognized those big green eyes anywhere.

When Louie spotted Vince he stood up and threw himself into Vince’s arms. “We got into a fight,” he sobbed into Vince’s chest. Vince patted Louie’s hair. 

“Why don’ ya tell me about it?” Vince said and led Louie back to the bench.

Vince mouthed at Howard “Find Clive.” 

Howard nodded.

Howard wandered the dark streets, wishing he’d thought to ask what Clive’s costume was.

Finally he came across Clive, dressed as a cowboy, pacing in a tight circle. His hair standing up in lunatic spikes where he’d been running his hands through it. His hat crumpled on the ground. Like he’d jumped up and down on it. 

“Clive.” Howard said.

Clive whipped around, squinting in the dark. “Howard? Howard the ghost?”

Howard wasn’t sure how he felt about the title Howard the Ghost and while he almost always had time to argue semantics this was one of the few exceptions.

“What happened with you and Louie?” 

“You saw him then. I was wonderin’ where the other bloke was.” Clive leaned heavily against a tree. “He drives me absolutely mad.” 

“What happened?”

“He always wants to take things too far. Take things too fast. Like just because I don’t want ta make out on the street I’m some sort of monster.”

Xxx

“It’s like he’s embarrassed of me,” Louis cried. “I honestly dunno if he even likes me anymore.”

“He likes you,” Vince said. “Trust me. He wouldn’t get this angry if he didn’t like you. He’s not embarrassed of you. He’s just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

Xxx

“He’s scared that you’ll find someone better,” Howard said. “That someone else will figure out the secret and steal you away. So he wants to stake his claim.”

“Someone better?” Clive said. He looked dumbfounded. “Someone better? There’s no one. No one is better than-What?”

“He loves you. Thinks the sun rises and sets on you.”

Clive slowly shook his head. Wanting to disagree. Not seeing how someone like Louie could love him. Howard knew that look. He’d worn it for years. It had held him back from so much. 

“Yeah. Well I love him too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“I-” Clive truly didn’t have an answer and Howard knew it. 

“Look. I didn’t really want to play the “I’m dead” card. But Vince and I-we had a chance. Like you and Louie do. But I was too scared. And he was too scared. And we died before it ever got off the ground. So just...don’t waste time yeah? If you love him. Love him. All the way. Don’t hold back because you’re scared. You’ll regret it.

Xxx

“But how? How do I make him realize that I care about him? That I’m serious? That I ain’t messin’ with him?”

“You’ve gotta tell him. In no uncertain terms. Smart guys like Clive and Howard. They are well thick. You gotta spell out everythin’ for em.” 

Louie smirked and nodded in solidarity. 

Then Howard and Clive approached. Louie shot to his feet.

“Clive!” He ran over and jumped into Clive’s arms. Clive caught him. Held him up. And kissed him deeply.

Howard respectfully averted his gaze. Vince stared at the two snogging teenagers.

“Vince!” Howard hissed. 

“Wot?”

“Some privacy yeah?”

“Oh. Right.” Vince cast his eyes toward the night sky until he heard the kissing noises stop. 

When he and Howard looked back at the kids Clive and Louie were holding hands and smiling.

“Thanks Vince.” Louie said.

Clive gave Howard a nod. Howard nodded back.

This was not the last time Howard and Vince saw Louie and Clive. A few years later Louie and Clive were visiting home from college for the weekend, they had a few Halloween parties to attend. They wandered their old streets, holding hands.

They came across Dracula and his Bride dancing in the moonlight in the park. 

To what else but  _ Our Song Howard! _

Clive snorted. “You two are well cheesy.”

Howard and Vince broke apart. Vince grinned. “Louie! Clive!”

He ran over and pulled them both into a hug. 

Clive was studying archaeology. Louie was studying fashion design.

Louie talked Vince’s ear off about how he was planning a line of clothes inspired by the artifacts in Clive’s books. They were well boring but the pictures and patterns were genius. 

Clive told Howard about a summer trip he was planning to assist on a dig in Papua New Guinea. He was going to miss Louie but Louie was going to visit for a few days before he started an internship at one of the London fashion houses.

This was not the last time Vince and Howard saw Clive and Louie. 20 years later. Clive and Louie were married. They had children and wanted to show them their old home. And they wanted the kids to meet some rather special people.

Louie led his little girl up to Vince. “Sally, this is Vince the friendly ghost.”

“Alright Sally?” Vince grinned. 

“I like your dress,” Sally said with a slight lisp.

“I like your dragon costume,” Vince said. “It is well tough.”

Sally bared her teeth like a menacing dragon and let out a growl.

Vince pretended to quake in his boots. “Oooh don’ hurt me Sally, I’m but a simple peasant ‘oo don’ wan’ no trouble.”

Sally growled again and swiped at Vince with a cardboard claw. Vince crumpled to the ground and pretended to die quite dramatically.

Clive and Howard watched this with great amusement. 

Clive and Louie’s other child, David, was a very serious boy who wore glasses. He was dressed as a book. The dictionary, to be more precise.

Clive smiled. “He loves it. He likes to read the dictionary and correct Louie’s grammar. Drives Lou mad. It’s absolutely hilarious.”

“I bet it is,” Howard said.

The ghosts and the humans communed for about an hour. Then the kids got the yawns and it was time to pile back in the minivan and head back to the city.

Louie hugged Vince. 

Vince whispered in Louie’s ear. “Thank you so much for letting us meet them.” 

Clive and Howard shook hands, but then they both gave in and hugged each other. 

Then everyone switched. Vince pressed a sloppy kiss on Clive’s forehead and Louie cackled. 

The kids demanded several hugs from both Howard and Vince and then finally the goodbyes were over. It was time to go. 

The kids kept turning back to wave at Howard and Vince one last time. And one last time. And one last time. Until they disappeared from view.

“I sort of love them,” Vince said. “Is that stupid?” 

“Not at all little man. Not at all.” 

Howard offered Vince his hand and they started their walk back to the graveyard. They’d been together for over two decades but Vince still got all giggly when Howard initiated contact. He supposed he always would. That’s just what happened when you were in love. 

**The End**


End file.
